AUGUSTINE'S 


.   A", 


\/l^^ 


TH  E 


Confessions    of    Augustine. 


EDITED,  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION, 


BY 

WILLIAM    G.    T.    SHEDD. 


E3DITIO3ST. 


BOSTON: 

D.     LOTHROP     AND     COMPANY. 
FRAXKLIN  ST.,  CORNER  OF  HAWLEY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1800,  by 

WARREN    F.    DRAPER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THIS  edition  of  Augustine's  Confessions  is  a  reprint 

f 

of  an  old  translation,  by  an  author  unknown  to  the  editor, 
which  was  republished  in  Boston  in  1843.  A  very  little 
use  has  also  been  made  of  another  edition,  published 
at  Oxford.  This  contains  only  ten  books,  and  where 
it  differs  from  the  old  version,  almost  uniformly  differs 
for  the  worse.  . 

The  principal  labor  in  preparing  this  edition,  has  been 
to  make  a  careful  comparison  of  the  whole  work  with  the 
Latin  text,  and  to  add  a  few  explanatory  notes.  The  ob- 
ject of  comparing  the  old  version  with  the  original,  was 
not  so  much  to  make  changes,  —  for  the  translation,  as  a 
whole,  like  all  the  early  English  translations  from  Latin 

2230766 


iv  Advertisement. 


and  Greek,  is  remarkably  faithful  and  vivid,  —  as  to  re- 
move obscurities.  These  arose,  in  some  few  instances, 
from  too  great  conciseness  upon  the  part  of  the  trans- 
lator ;  but  in  many  more,  from  errors  in  printing  and 
punctuating.  In  course  of  time,  under  the  hands  of  ed- 
itors and  proof-readers,  the  long  and  involved  sentences 
of  Augustine  had  become  so  dislocated,  that  nothing  but 
a  recurrence  to  the  Latin  text  would  restore  them  to  the 
form  in  which  the  translator  had  originally  given  them. 
This  was  specially  true,  of  the  Jast  three  books,  which 
are  exceedingly  subtile  and  abstract  in  their  trains  of 
thought,  and  in  many  passages  had  become  totally  ob- 
scure. The  editor  flatters  himself  that  this  revised  edition 
exhibits  the  old  translation  substantially  as  it  was  at  first, 
and  that  it  will  be  found  to  be  intelligible. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION  BY  THE  EDITOR, Page  IX 

THE  FIRST  BOOK. 

Confession  of  the  greatness  and  unsearcbableness  of  God;  of  God'a 
mercies  in  infancy  and  boyhood,  and  human  wilfulness;  of  his  own 
sins  of  idleness,  abuse  of  his  studies,  and  of  God's  gifts  up  to  his  fif- 
teenth year,  .  .  , . 1 

THE   SECOND  BOOK. 

Object  of  these  Confessions;  further  ills  of  idleness  developed  in  his  six- 
teenth year;  evils  of  ill  society,  which  betrayed  him  into  theft,  28 

THE  THIRD  BOOK. 

His  residence  at  Carthage  from  his  seventeenth  to  his  nineteenth  year; 
source  of  his  disorders;  love  of  shows;  advance  in  studies,  and  love 
of  wisdom;  distaste  for  Scripture;  led  astray  to  the  Manichxans; 
refutation  of  some  of  their  tenets ;  grief  of  his  mother  Monica  at  his 
heresy,  and  prayers  for  his  conversion;  her  vision  from  God,  and  an- 
swer through  a  bishop, 42 


vi  Contents. 


THE  FOURTH  BOOK. 

Augustine's  life  from  nineteen  to  eight  and  twenty;  himself  a  Maui- 
chaean,  and  seducing  others  to  the  same  heresy;  partial  obedience 
amidst  vanity  and  sin ;  consulting  astrologers,  only  partially  shaken 
herein ;  loss  of  an  early  freind,  who  is  converted  by  being  baptized 
when  in  a  swoon ;  reflections  on  grief;  on  real  and  unreal  friendship, 
and  love  of  fame;  writes  on  "the  fair  and  fit,"  yet  cannot  rightly, 
though  God  had  given  him.  great  talents,  since  he  entertained  wrong 
notions  of  God;  and  so  even  his  knowledge  he  applied  ill,  .  63 

THE  FIFTH   BOOK. 

Augustine's  twenty-ninth  year;  Faustus,  a  snare  of  Satan  to  many, 
made  an  instrument  of  deliverance  to  Augustine,  by  showing  the  ig- 
norance of  the  Manichees  on  those  things,  wherein  they  professed  to 
have  divine  knowledge;  Augustine  gives  up  all  thought  of  going 
further  among  the  Manichees;  is  guided  to  Rome  and  Milan,  where  he 
hears  Ambrose ;  leaves  the  Manichees,  and  becomes  again  a  Catechu- 
men in  the  Church  Catholic, 89 

THE   SIXTH  BOOK. 

Arrival  of  Monica  at  Milan ;  her  obedience  to  Ambrose,  and  his  regard 
for  her;  Ambrose's  habits;  Augustine's  gradual  abandonment  of 
error;  finds  that  he  has  blamed  the  Church  Catholic  wrongly;  desire 
of  absolute  certainty,  but  struck  with  the  contrary  analogy  of  God's 
natural  Providence;  how  shaken  in  his  worldly  pursuits;  God's  guid- 
ance of  his  friend  Alypius;  Augustine  debates  with  himself  and  his 
friends  about  their  mode  of  life ;  his  inveterate  sins,  and  dread  of 
judgment, 115 

THE  SEVENTH  BOOK. 

Augustine's  thirty-first  year;  gradually  extricated  from  his  errors,  but 
still  with  material  conceptions  of  God;  aided  by  an  argument  of  Ne- 


Contents.  vn 

bridius ;  sees  that  the  cause  of  siu  lies  in  free-will ;  rejects  the  Mani- 
chxan  heresy,  but  cannot  altogether  embrace  the  doctrine  of  the 
Church ;  recovered  from  the  belief  in  Astrology,  but  miserably  per- 
plexed about  the  origin  of  evil;  is  led  to  find  in  the  Platonists  the 
seeds  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Divinity  of  the  WORD,  but  not  of  His  Hu- 
miliation; hence  he  obtains  clearer  notions  of  God's  majesty;  but,  not 
knowing  Christ  to  be  the  Mediator,  remains  estranged  from  Him ;  all 
his  doubts  removed  by  the  study  of  Holy  Scripture,  especially  St. 
Paul, 144 

THE  EIGHTH  BOOK. 

Augustine's  thirty-second  year;  he  consults  Simplicianus ;  from  him 
hears  the  history  of  the  conversion  of  Victorinus,  and  longs  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  God,  but  is  mastered  by  his  old  habits;  is  still 
further  roused  by  the  history  of  Antony,  and  of  the  conversion  of  two 
courtiers;  during  a  severe  struggle,  hears  a  voice  from  heaven,  opens 
Scripture,  and  is  converted,  with  his  friend  Alypius;  his  mother's 
vision  fulfilled, 176 

THE  NINTH  BOOK. 

Augustine  determines  to  devote  his  life  to  God,  and  to  abandon  his  pro- 
fession of  Rhetoric,  quietly,  however;  retires  to  the  country  to  pre- 
pare himself  to  receive  baptism,  and  is  baptized,  with  Alypius,  and  his 
son,  Adeodatus;  at  Ostia,  on  his  way  to  Africa,  his  mother,  Monica, 
dies,  in  her  fifty -sixth  year,  the  thirty-third  of  Augustine;  her  life 
and  character, 206 

THE  TENTH  BOOK. 

Having  in  the  former  books  spoken  of  himself  before  his  receiving  bap- 
tism, in  this  Augustine  confesses  what  he  then  was;  but  first  he  in- 
quires by  what  faculty  we  can  know  God  at  all ;  whence  he  enlarges  on 


vin  Contents. 

the  mysterious  character  of  the  memory,  •wherein  God,  being  made 
known,  dwells,  but  which  could  not  discover  Him;  then  he  examines 
his  own  temptations,  under  the  triple  division  of  "  lust  of  the  flesh, 
lust  of  the  eyes,  and  lust  of  rule;"  what  Christian  continency  pre- 
scribes as  to  each ;  Christ  the  only  Mediator,  who  heals  and  will  heal 
all  infirmities,  .  241 

THE  ELEVENTH  BOOK. 

Augustine  breaks  off  the  history  of  the  mode  whereby  God  led  him  to 
holy  orders,  in  order  to  "  confess  "  God's  mercies  in  opening  to  him  the 
Scripture ;  Moses  is  not  to  be  understood,  but  in  Christ,  not  even  the 
first  words, "  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth ;" 
answer  to  cavillers  who  asked,  "  What  did  God  before  He  created 
heaven  and  the  earth,  and  whence  willed  He  at  length  to  make  them, 
•whereas  He  did  not  make  them  before?";  inquiry  into  the  nature  of 
tone, 300 

THE  TWELFTH  BOOK. 

Augustine  proceeds  to  comment  on  Gen.  i.  1,  and  explains  the  "  heaven  " 
to  mean  that  spiritual  and  incorporeal  creation  which  cleaves  to  God 
unintermittingly,  always  beholding  His  countenance,  and  "  earth,"  the 
formless  matter  whereof  the  corporeal  creation  was  afterwards  formed ; 
he  does  not  reject,  however,  other  interpretations,  which  he  adduces, 
but  rather  confesses  that  such  is  the  depth  of  Holy  Scripture,  that 
manifold  senses  may  and  ought  to  be  extracted  from  it,  and  that  what- 
ever truth  can  be  obtained  from  its  words,  does,  in  fact,  lie  concealed 
in  them, 334 

THE   THIRTEENTH  BOOK. 

Continuation  of  the  exposition  of  Gen.  i. ;  it  contains  the  mystery  of  the 
Trinity,  and  a  type  of  the  formation,  extension,  and  support  of  the 
Church, 372 


INTRODUCTION. 


THERE  are  a  few  autobiographies  which  challenge,  and 
receive,  a  special  attention  from  age  to  age,  because  they 
possess  characteristics  that  are  not  found  in  the  common 
mass  of  such  productions.  They  are  the  delineation 
of  an  extraordinary  intellect,  and  the  issue  of  a  re- 
markable experience.  They  embody  the  thoughts  of 
a  deep  mind  in  its  most  absorbed  hours,  the  emotions 
of  a  vehement  soul  in  its  most  critical  and  impas- 
sioned moments.  In  them,  the  ordinary  experiences 
of  human  life  attain  to  such  a  pitch  of  intensity,  and 
such  a  breadth,  range,  and  depth,  as  to  strike  the  reader 
with  both  a  sense  of  familiarity,  and  a  sense  of  strange- 
ness. It  is  his  own  human  thought  and  human  feeling 
that  he  finds  expressed ;  and  yet  it  is  spoken  with  so 
much  greater  clearness,  depth,  and  energy,  than  he  is 
himself  capable  of,  or  than  is  characteristic  of  the  mass 
of  men,  that  it  seems  like  the  experience  of  another 
sphere,  and  another  race  of  beings. 


Introduction. 


The  CONFESSIONS  OP  AUGUSTINE  is  a  work  of  this 
class ;  and  upon  sending  forth  another  edition  of  it,  we 
seize  the  opportunity  to  notice  some  of  its  more  dis- 
tinctive and  remarkable  features. 

1.  The  first  characteristic  that  strikes  the  reader  is, 
the  singular  mingling  of  metaphysical  and  devotional 
elements  in  the  work.  The  writer  passes,  with  a  free- 
dom that  often  amounts  to  abruptness,  from  the  in- 
tensely practical  to  the  intensely  speculative.  In  the 
very  midst  of  his  confession  of  sin,  or  rejoicing  over 
deliverance  from  it,  his  subtle  and  inquisitive  under- 
standing raises  a  query,  the  answer  to  which,  if  answer 
were  possible,  would  involve  the  solution  of  all  the 
problems  that  have  baffled  the  metaphysical  mind  from 
Thales  to  Hegel.  In  the  very  opening  of  the  work, 
for  example,  when  the  surcharged  and  brimming  soul 
is  swelling  with  its  thick-coming  emotions,  and  it  is 
seeking  vent  for  its  sense  of  the  divine  mercy  which 
has  saved  it  from  everlasting  perdition,  it  slides,  by  an 
unconscious  transition,  to  the  question :  "How  shall  I 
call  upon  my  God,  my  God  and  Lord,  since  when  I 
call  for  Him  I  shall  be  calling  Him  into  myself?  and 
what  room  is  there  within  me,  whither  my  God  can 
come  into  me  ?  Whither  can  God  come  into  me,  God, 
who  made  heaven  and  earth  ? " !  At  the  very  instant 

1  Confessions,  I.  ii.  2 


Introduction.  xi 


when  Augustine  is  enjoying  the  most  heartfelt  and  posi- 
tive communion  with  God,  his  intellect  feels  the  pres- 
sure of  the  problem  respecting  the  possibility  of  such 
an  intercourse.  Such  transitions  are  perpetually  occur- 
ring throughout  the  work,  until,  in  the  eleventh  book, 
the  author  leave*  his  autobiography  altogether,  and  de- 
votes the  remainder  of  the  work  to  an  interpretation 
of  the  opening  chapters  of  Genesis,  in  which  he  dis- 
cusses the  most  recondite  problems  respecting  Time 
and  Eternity,  the  Creator  and  Creation,  and  the  Tri- 
unity  of  the  Divine  Essence. 

It  is  not,  however,  from  any  open  or  lurking  scep- 
ticism, or  even  from  any  mental  unrest,  that  Augustine 
raises  such  inquiries.  These  questions  are  not  the  issue 
and  index  of  a  mind  tormented  by  doubts.  They  are 
only  the  exuberant  play  and  careering  of  a  subtle  and 
thoughtful  intellect,  from  the  vantage-ground  of  a  vital 
and  assured  faith.  Conscious  of  being  now,  at  last,  at 
rest  in  God,  the  Centre  of  being  and  blessedness,  he 
allows  his  mind  to  pose  itself  with  the  profound  truths 
which  are  involved  in  the  childlike  faith  of  the  Chris- 
tian. His  purpose  is  not  to  unsettle  his  own  belief,  or 
that  of  his  reader;  but,  by  the  mere  immensity  of 
truth,  to  stagger  and  overwhelm  the  understanding, 
and  thereby  fill  the  soul  with  that  sense  of  mystery 
which  is  at  once  the  constituent  element  of  awe,  and 


Introduction. 


the  nutriment  of  worship.  Nothing  can  be  further 
from  infidelity,  than  the  spirit  with  which  Augustine 
raises  these  inquiries  respecting  time,  eternity,  the 
nature  of  God  and  the  human  soul,  the  possibility 
and  manner  of  creation  from  nothing,  the  origin  of 
evil,  and  the  nature  of  matter.  Neither  is  there  any- 
thing of  Gnostic  curiosity  and  pride,  in  his  approaches 
to  the  frontiers  of  this  realm  of  mystery.  He  merely 
desires,  by  this  tentative  method,  to  fill  his  own  mind, 
already  believing  hoping  and  joying  in  divine  realities, 
with  a  more  distinct  consciousness  of  the  infinitude  of 
the  world  beyond  space  and  time,  and  of  those  truths 
and  facts  which,  in  his  own  phrase,  cannot  enter  by  any 
of  the  avenues  of  the  flesh.  Hence,  his  questionings 
leave  him  humble,  while  they  leave  him  more  self-in- 
tellig'ent.  His  speculation  issues  from  his  religious  life 
and  feeling,  and  helps  both  to  clarify  and  deepen  it.  In 
other  words,  Augustine  is  here  practising  upon  his  own 
celebrated  dictum,  thai  faith  precedes  scientific  knowledge. 
The  practical  belief  of  the  truths  of  Christianity  con- 
tains much  that  is  latent  and  undeveloped.  The  Chris- 
tian is  wiser  than  he  knows.  The  moment  he  begins 
to  examine  the  implications  of  his  own  vivid  and  per- 
sonal experience,  he  finds  that  they  contain  the  entire 
rudimental  matter  of  Christian  science.  For  example, 
he  believes  in  the  one  living  and  personal  God.  But, 


Introduction.  xm 


the  instant  he  commences  the  analysis  of  tliis  idea  of 
ideas,  he  discovers  its  profound  capacity,  and  its  vast  im- 
plication. Again,  he  believes  in  God  incarnate.  But 
when  he  endeavors  to  comprehend  what  is  involved  in 
this  truth  and  fact,  he  is  overwhelmed  by  the  multitude 
of  its  relations,  and  the  richness  of  its  contents.  His 
faith  has  really  and  positively  grasped  these  ideas  of  God 
and  the  God-Man  ;  but,  —  to  employ  an  illustration  of 
Bernard,  —  it  has  grasped  them  in  their  closed  and 
involuted  form.1  If  he  would  pass,  now,  from  faith  to 
scientific  reason,  he  needs  only  to  reflect  upon  the  in- 
trinsic meaning  of  these  ideas,  until  they*  open  along 
the  lines  of  their  structure,  and  are  perceived  philo- 
sophically, though  not  exhaustively.  But,  in  this  pro- 
cess, faith  itself  is  reinforced  and  deepened  by  a  reflex 
action,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  intellect  is  kept 
reverent  and  vigilant,  because  the  cognition,  though 
positive  and  correct  as  far  as  it  reaches,  is  not  ex- 
haustive and  complete,  only  by  reason  of  the  immensity 
and  infinitude  of  the  object. 

Holding  such  a  theory  of  the  relation  of  reason  to 
faith,  Augustine  never  shrinks  from  making  excursions 
into  the  region  of  metaphysical  truth.  Although  he 


1  Intellectns  rationi  innititnr,  fides  authoritati,  opinio  sola  verisimili- 
tudine  se  tuetur.  Habent  ilia  duo  certam  veritatem,  sed  fides  clausarn 
et  involutam,  intelligent!*  nudam  et  ruaiiifestam.  —  De  Cousideratione, 
Lib.  V.  Cap.  iii  c.  893.  Par.  Ed.  1632. 


xiv  Introduction. 


uniformly  approaches  the  problems  of  theology  upon 
their  most  difficult  side,  and  never  attempts  to  become 
clear  by  becoming  shallow,  yet  there  is  small  fear  of 
philosophy,  and  still  less  disparagement  of  reason,  in  the 
writings  of  the  bishop  of  Hippo.  And  this,  because 
of  the  above-mentioned  theory.  Always  making  his 
own  vital  and  confident  faith  the  point  from  which  he 
departs,  and  to  which  he  returns,  he  is  at  once  bold 
and  safe.  Go  where  he  may,  he  cannot  lose  sight  of 
his  pole-star;  and  thus  he  always  keeps  his  easting. 
Like  the  mariner,  far  out  at  sea,  with  a  strong  ship 
under  him,  and  the  unfathomed  abysses  beneath  him,  he 
careers  courageously  over  the  waste  of  waters,  with  no 
dread  of  a  lee  shore,  or  of  sunken  rocks.  Hence  the 
frequency,  and  oftentimes  the  strange  abruptness,  of  his 
metaphysical  queryings.  He  knows  that  all  truth  is 
consistent  with  itself,  and  that  the  philosophical  answer, 
if  it  come  at  all,  must  come  out  of  the  material  fur- 
nished by  the  Christian  consciousness.  His  reason  can- 
not contradict  his  faith,  because  it  is  homogeneous  and 
consubstantial  with  it.  The  former  is  the  evolution ; 
the  latter  is  the  involution. 

2.  A  second  characteristic  of  Augustine's  Confessions 
is,  the  union  of  the  most  minute  and  exhaustive  detail  of 
sin,  with  the  most  intense  and  spiritual  abhorrence  of  it. 
The  only  work,  in  any  language,  that  bears  any  compar- 


Introduction.  xv 


ison  with  this  of  the  North-African  Father,  is  that  in 
which  Rousseau  pours  out  his  life  of  passion  and  evil 
concupiscence.  There  is  the  same  abandon  and  unre- 
serve in  each ;  the  same  particularity  in  recounting  the 
past  conduct ;  the  same  subtle  unwinding  of  the  course  of 
transgression.  Each  absorbs  himself  hi  his  own  biog- 
raphy, with  an  entireness  and  simplicity  that  precludes 
any  thought  for  a  spectator  or  a  listener ;  any  regard 
for  either  an  unfeeling  or  a  sympathizing  world  of 
readers.  Augustine  and  Rousseau,  both  alike,  with- 
draw into  the  secret  and  silent  confessional  of  their 
own  memories  and  recollections,  and  there  pour  out 
their  confidences  with  utter  self-abandonment. 

But  the  resemblance  ceases  at  this  point.  The  mo- 
tive prompting  the  confession,  and  the  emotions  that 
accompany  it,  are  as  different  as  light  from  darkness. 
Augustine's  confession  is  really  such,  —  an  acknowl- 
edgment to  God.  Rousseau's  recital  is  a  soliloquy, 
that  never  goes  beyond  himself.  The  Christian  bishop 
confesses  his  past  sinful  life  only  that  he  may  magnify, 
and  make  his  boast  in  that  unmerited  grace  which 
plucked  him  "from  the  bottom  of  the  bottomless  pit"1 
He  brings  out  his  secret  and  scarlet  sins  into  the  light 
of  his  memory,  that  he  may  praise  the  God  of  his  sal- 
vation for  his  marvellous  pity.  "I  will  now  call  to 

1  Confessions,  II.  iv.  9. 


XVI 


Introduction. 


mind,"  he  says,  "my  past  foulness,  and  the  carnal  cor- 
ruptions of  my  soul;  not  because  I  love  them,  but 
that  I  may  love  Thee,  O  my  God.  For  love  of  Thy 
love  I  do  it ;  reviewing  my  most  wicked  ways,  hi  the 
very  bitterness  of  my  remembrance,  that  Thou  mayest 
grow  sweet  unto  me."1  The  minuteness,  the  plainness, 
and  the  exhaustiveness  of  his  account  of  his  sinful 
life,  only  sets  in  stronger  relief  the  strangeness  of  the 
mercy  that  lifted  him  out  of  it;  only  fills  him  with  a 
delirium  of  joy  and  love  towards  his  redeeming  God. 
How  different  all  this  is  from  the  motive,  and  the  feel- 
ing of  Eousseau,  it  is  needless  to  say.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  affirm  the  existence  of  a  deliberate  intention  to 
debauch  the  world,  by  those  confessions  of  sin  and  guilt, 
though  such  is,  unquestionably,  the  inevitable  tendency 
of  them.  It  is  enough  to  say,  that  there  certainly  was 
no  intention  to  waken  abhorrence  of  evil  by  means  of 
them ;  and  still  less  to  reflect  any  light  upon  the  Divine 
character  and  government.  The  impelling  motive  prob- 
ably was,  to  relieve  a  stormy  and  tempest-tossed  nature, 
by  a  simple  overflow  of  the  pent-up  elements.  Rous- 
seau merely  followed  that  impulse  of  a  burdened  soul 
which  necessitates  self-utterance ;  that  law  of  both  mind 
and  matter  which  absolutely  forbids  the  perpetual  sup- 
pression of  struggling  powers  and  forces.  All  the  de- 

1  Confessions,  II.  i.  1. 


Introduction.  XVH 


vices  of  man  cannot  choke  down  even  the  smallest 
spring  of  water,  so  that  it  shall  never  come  to  the 
surface ;  and  all  the  efforts  of  men  and  angels  com- 
bined cannot  keep  under,  in  eternal  burial,  the  emotions 
and  passions  of  an  inordinate'and  billowy  spirit.  Under 
this  stress  and  pressure,  the  "  self-torturing  sophist " 
enters  into  the  detail  of  his  unworthy  and  unhappy 
life,  without  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  claims  of 
law,  and  apparently  without  the  slightest  fear  of  its 
retributions.  The  wild  and  passionate  rehearsal  goes 
on,  but  with  no  reference  either  to  the  holiness  or  the 
mercy  of  the  Supreme;  with  no  allusion  to  the  sol- 
emn relations  of  an  immortal  soul  either  to  time  or  to 
eternity. 

Again,  while  Augustine  relates  the  sins  of  his  youth, 
and  his  transgressions,  with  a  plainness  which  the  facti- 
tious modesty  of  an  inwardly  impure  mind  has  some- 
times condemned,  it  is  always  with  the  most  genuine 

« 

and  unaffected  sorrow  and  abhorrence.  A  more  sin- 
cere book  than  the  Confessions  of  Augustine  was  never 
written.  Every  statement  of  sin  is  a  wail  over  it. 
Rivers  of  waters  run  down  the  relator's  eyes,  because 
he  has  not  kept  the  divine  law.  The  plainness  of  this 
book  is  like  that  of  the  prophecy  of  Ezekiel ;  the  vile- 
ness  is  brought  out  into  sight  only  that  it  may  be  tram- 
pled and  stamped  upon.  And  yet  it  is  not  a  spasmodic, 
2 


win  Introduction. 


or  an  affected  reprobation.  From  the  depths  of  a  now 
spiritualized  mind,  Augustine  really  abhors  his  past  in- 
iquity. He  is  a  new  creature ;  old  things  have  passed 
away,  and  all  things  have  become  new.  With  the  clear 
and  searching  eye  of  the 'cherubim,  he  looks  into  the 
hole  of  the  pit  whence  he  was  digged,  and  beholds  ac- 
cording to  truth.  There  is  no  furtive  glance  towards 
the  past  voluptuousness. "  It  is  seen  to  be  sin  and  guilt, 
meriting  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God,  fit  only  to  be 
burned  up  in  the  consuming  fire  of  the  Divine  immacu- 
lateness.  All  this  is  perceived  with  calmness  and  cer- 
tainty ;  so  that  the  judgment  of  damnation,  which  is 
passed  by  the  autobiographer  upon  his  personal  cor- 
ruption, is  deep  and  tranquil,  like  that  of  the  bar  of 
final  doom. 

3.  But  this  is  only  a  negative  excellence.  A  third 
characteristic  of  this  book  is,  that  it  palpitates  with  a 
positive  love  of  God  and  goodness.  The  writer  does 
not  merely  look  back  with  aversion  and  abhorrence, 
but  he  looks  forward  with  aspiration  and  longing.  He 
gazes,  with  a  steady  and  rapt  eye,  upon  the  supernal 
Beauty,  the  heavenly  Eros.  His  spiritualized  perception 
reposes  with  joy  unutterable,  and  full  of  glorying,  upon 
the  perfections  of  God  and  the  realities  of  eternity. 
Hear  his  impassioned  utterance.  "  Not  with  doubting,  but 
with  assured  consciousness,  do  I  love  Thee,  Lord.  But 


Introduction.  xix 


what  do  I  love  when  I  love  Thee  ?  not  the  beauty  of 
bodies,  nor  the  fair  harmony  of  time,  nor  the  brightness 
of  the  light  so  gladsome  to  our  eyes,  nor  sweet  melodies 
of  varied  songs,  nor  the  fragrant  smell  of  flowers  and 
ointments  and  spices,  not  manna  and  honey,  not  limbs 
acceptable  to  the  embracements  of  flesh.  None  of  these 
do  I  love  when  I  love  my  God ;  and  yet  I  love  a  kind 
of  light,  a  kind  of  melody,  a  kind  of  fragrance,  a  kind 
of  food,  and  a  kind  of  embracement,  when  I  love  my 
God,  —  the  light,  the  melody,  the  fragrance,  the  food, 
the  embracement,  of  the  inner  man :  where  there 
shineth  unto  my  soul  what  space  cannot  contain,  and 
there  soundeth  what  time  beareth  not  away,  and  there 
smelleth  what  breathing  disperseth  not,  and  there  tasteth 
what  eating  diminisheth  not,  and  there  clingeth  what 
satiety  divorceth  not.  This  is  it  which  I  love,  when  I 
love  my  God".  The  entire  emotiveness  of  that  deep, 
passionate,  North- African  nature  has  been  transferred 
from  sense  to  spirit,  from  time  to  eternity,  from  earth  to 
heaven,  from  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  now  flows 
on  like  the  river  of  God,  which  is  full  of  water.  In- 
deed, the  feeling  which  Augustine  bears  towards  the 
Blessed  Triune  God,  cannot  be  better  expressed  than 
by  the  word  ajfectionateness.  There  is  in  his  experi- 
ence awe  "  deep  as  the  centre ; "  there  is  humility 
absolute ;  there  is  the  reverential  fear  of  the  whig 


XX 


Introduction. 


veiled  seraphim ;  but  there  is,  also,  in  and  through  it 
all,  that  confiding  love  which  is  both  warranted  and 
elicited  by  the  dying  prayer  of  the  Redeemer.  This 
man,  who  so  often  denominates  himself  "  evil"  and 
"abominable,"  "  miserable"  and  "godless," — who  pros- 
trates his  whole  being,  in  shame  and  sorrow  unspeak- 
able, before  the  infinite  and  adorable  majesty  of  God,  — 
yet  finds  an  answer,  in  his  own  regenerate  conscious- 
ness, to  the  wonderful  supplication  of  the  Redeemer, 
that  his  redeemed  "  all  may  be  one,  as  thou  Father  art 
in  me,  and  I  in  thee ;  that  they  may  be  one  even  as  we 
are  one ;  I  in  them,  and  thou  in  me,  that  they  may  be 
made  perfect  in  one." 

This  sense  of  union  with  God  is  very  vivid  in  this 
Latin  Father ;  as  it  is,  also,  in  some  of  the  more  spirit- 
ual of  the  schoolmen,  —  particularly  Anselm  andx  Ber- 
nard. It  is  very  different,  however,  from  that  vague 
feeling  of  the  Mystic  theologian,  which,  even  in  its  best 
forms,  sometimes  hovers  upon  the  borders  of  pantheism, 
and  in  its  worst  form,  as  in  Eckart  and  Silesius,  is  little 
better  than  the  Hindoo  absorption  hi  the  deity.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  that  intelligent  consciousness  of  oneness 
with  God,  which  issues  from  the  evangelical  sense  of 
reconciliation  with  him  through  the  blood  of  Christ.  The 
ideas  of  Incarnation  and  Redemption  shape  the  whole 
experience  of  Augustine,  and  his  communion  with  God 


Introduction.      *  xxi 


has  its  root  in  the  sense  of  sin,  and  the  sense  of  mercy. 
But  these  two  utterly  preclude  the  pantheistic  intuition. 
He  who  feels  himself  to  be  guilty,  knows  most  pierc- 
ingly that  God  and  man  are  two  distinct  beings.  And 
he  who  has  rejoiced  in  the  manifested  pity  of  the  Crea- 
tor towards  the  creature,  cannot  possibly  confound  the 
two,  either  in  philosophy  or  theology.  And  such  is  the 
foundation  upon  which  Augustine's  filial  and  affectionate 
communion  with  God  rests.  He  knows  that  if  God 
spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  freely  gave  him  up  for  a 
guilty  criminal  like  himself,  he  will  certainly,  after  this, 
freely  give  him  all  things.  Springing  from  this  evan- 
gelical root,  the  affectionateness  of  Augustine  is  totally 
different,  also,  from  that  fatal  form  of  self-deception 
which  is  seen  in  the  sentimentalist's  love  of  God.  He 
does  not  presume  to  cast  himself  upon  the  Divine 
mercy,  until  he  has  first  recognized  and  acquiesced  in 
the  Divine  justice.  These  Confessions  contain  none  of 
that  religiousness,  to  which  the  intrinsic  and  eternal 
damnableness  of  sin  is  an  offensive  truth,  and  which 
avoids  all  the  retributive  and  judicial  aspects  of  revela- 
tion. Augustine  never  shrinks  from  the  fact,  that  a 
creature's  wilful  transgression,  in  its  own  nature  merits, 
and  irrespective  of  Christ's  blood  of  atonement  will 
receive,  an  "  everlasting  punishment "  from  the  living 
God.  He  knows  that  the  doctrine  of  genuine  peni- 


xxii  Introduction. 


tence  for  sin,  stands,  or  falls,  with  that  of  an  absolute 
ill-desert,  and  an  everlasting  penalty ;  that  every  species 
of  religious  anxiety  which  reluctates  at  Christ's  repre- 
sentations of  the  final  doom,  and  at  the  doctrine  that 
only  Christ's  Passion  stands  between  a  sinner  and  eter- 
nal damnation,  is  spurious ;  and  that  he  who  would 
throw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the  Redeemer,  before 
he  has  knelt  with  a  crushed  heart  at  the  bar  of  the 
Judge,  will  ultimately  meet  a  terrific  rebuke  to  his 
presumption,  and  his  moral  worthlessness.  Augustine's 
trust  in  the  compassion  of  God  has  for  its  antecedent, 
the  distinct  consciousness  of  the  "  wrath  to  come."  The 
Divine  love  is,  Jbr  his  mind,  a  pity  that  "  bore  his  sins 
on  the  tree,"  and  thereby  delivered  him  from  an  eternal 
infliction  that  was  merited  and  actually  impending.1 

Such  thoroughness  in  Augustine's  experience  of  both 
the  justice  and  the  mercy  of  God,  resulted  in  aa  un- 
doubting  confidence  in  Him.  The  trustfulness  of  hia. 
feeling  towards  the  Supreme  exhibits  itself,  sometimes, 
almost  like  the  prattling  of  a  child.  "  I  beseech  Thee, 
my  God,  I  would  fain  know,  if  so  Thou  wiliest,  for  what 
purpose  my  baptism  was  then  deferred  ?  Was  it  for 
my  good,  that  the  rein  was  laid  loose,  as  it  were,  upon 
me,  for  me  to  sin  ?  " 2  "  Bear  with  me,  my  God,  while  I 
say  something  of  my  wit,  Thy  gift,  and  on  what  dotages 

1  Compare  Confessions,  V.  ix.  16.  2  Confessions,  I.  xi.  18. 


Introduction.  xxm 


I  wasted  it."1  In  fact,  the  whole  life,  the  entire  experi- 
ence of  Augustine,  with  all  that  is  insignificant,  equally 
with  all  that  is  great  in  it,  is  poured  out  into  the  ear  of 
the  Divine  Confessor.  To  God  there  is  nothing  great, 
and  nothing  small ;  and  this  penitent  and  affectionate 
soul  passes  from  point  to  point  in  its  detail,  without  stop- 
ping to  measure  or  compare.  The  Divine  ear  is  not 
heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear  even  the  minutest  items  of  the 
penitential  record  ;  and  the  filial,  grateful  heart  is  never 
tired  of  the  exhaustive  confession  and  rehearsal. 

Such  an  experience  as  this  brought  the  spirit  of  Au- 
gustine into  most  intimate  relations  to  God.  "  Some- 
times," he  says,  "Thou  admittest  me  Jo  an  affection 
very  unusual,  in  my  inmost  soul ;  rising  to  a  strange 
sweetness,  which,  if  it  were  perfected  in  me,  I  know  not 
what  in  it  would  not  belong  to  the  life  to  come."2  The 
Modern  church  is  too  destitute  of  this  child-like  affec- 
tionateness,  and  this  fervor  of  love.  It  is  certainly 
striking  to  pass  from  the  more  formal  and  reserved 
types  of  religious  experience,  characteristic  of  an  over- 
civilized  Christendom,  to  the  simple  and  gushing  utter- 
ances of  Augustine,  Anselm,  and  Bernard.  "Too  late 
I  loved  Thee,  O  Thou  Beauty  of  ancient  days,  yet  ever 
new!  too  late  I  loved  Thee!"3  "Oh!  that  I  mijrht 


1  Confessions,  I.  xvii.  27.  2  Confessions,  X.  xl.  65. 

3  Confessions,  X.  xxvii.  38. 


XXIV 


Introduction. 


repose  on  Thee !  Oh !  that  Thou  wouldest  enter  into 
my  heart,  and  inebriate  it!"1  "Oh!  Thou  sweetness 
never  failing,  Thou  blissful  and  assured  sweetness ! " 2 
In  one  of  his  Soliloquies,  Augustine  addresses  God  as 
both  father  and  mother :  u  Et  tu  Domine  Deus  pater 
orphanorum,  et  tu  mater  pupillorum  tuorum,  audi  eju- 
latum  filiorum  tuorum."8  The  soul  follows  hard  after 
God,  and  its  pantings  often  find  a  natural  expression  in 
language,  and  terms,  as  fervid  as  those  which  we  are 
wont  to  associate  only  with  the  most  absorbing  and  con- 
suming of  earthly  passions.  The  rythmical  and  sono- 
rous Roman  speech  becomes  yet  more  deep-toned  and 
sounding  in  its  note,  as  the  rapt  mind  rises  upon  the 
wings  of  spiritual  intuition  and  ecstasy.  The  superla- 
tive becomes  the  positive.  "Dulcissime,  amantissime, 
benignissime,  preciosissime,  desideratissime,  amabilis- 
sime,  pulcherrime,  tu  melle  dulcior,  lacte  et  nive  candi- 
dior,  nectare  suavior,  gemmis  et  auro  preciosior,  cunctis- 
que  terrarum  divitiis  et  honoribus  mihi  carior,  quando  te 
videbo  ?  Quando  apparebo  ante  faciem  tuam  ?  Quando 
satiabor  de  pulchritudine  tua?"4  This  language,  it  should 
be  remembered,  flows  from  a  mind  that  is  naturally  spec- 
ulative and  dialectic ;  that  has  meditated,  not  merely  pro- 


l  Confessions,  I.  v.  6.  2  Confessions,  II.  1. 1. 

3  Soliloquiorum  liber  nnns,  Opera  IX.  763,  Ed.  Basil,  1569. 

4  Meditationum  liber  uuus,  6pera  IX.  722,  728,  Ed.  Basil,  1560. 


Introduction.  xxv 


foundly,  but  systematically,  upon  the  being  and  attri- 
butes of  God.  It  is  not  the  utterance  of  a  senti- 
mentalist, but  of  a  robust  understanding,  out  of  which 
issued  the  most  logical  and  rigorous  of  the  ancient  types 
of  Christian  theology.  When  we  find  the  most  abstract 
and  intellectual  of  the  Christian  Fathers  dissolving  in 
tears,  or  mounting  in  ecstasy,  we  may  be  certain  that 
the  emotion  issues  from  truth  and  reality.  When  the 
rock  gushes  out  water,  we  may  be  sure  that  it  is  pure 
water.  Were  it  not  that  we  find  the  systematic  writings 
of  Augustine,  —  which,  moreover,  constitute  the  bulk  of 
his  works,  —  calm  as  reason  itself,  consecutive  as  logic 
itself,  and  entirely  free  from  extravagance,  we  might 
query  whether  a  sinful  mortal,  an  imperfectly  sanctified 
man,  could  use  such  language  as  the  above,  without  a 
latent  insincerity ;  or,  at  least,  without  running  far  in 
advance  of  his  real  emotions.  But  these  soliloquies 
and  meditations  are  the  moments  of  Christian  and 
saintly  inspiration;  seasons  when  the  deep  and  subtle 
reasoning  of  the  renewed  mind,  having  reached  its 
term,  becomes  hushed  and  breathless  in  the  spiritual 
intuition,  and  passes  over  into  awe  and  worship.  The 
knowledge  of  the  cherub  becomes  the  love  of  the 
seraph.  Each  is  alike  real  and  true ;  the  one  is  the 
dark  root,  the  other  the  bright  consummate  flower  of 
religion. 


xxvi  Introduction. 


One  who  imbues  his  mind  with  the  spirit  of  Augus- 
tine's Confessions  finds  no  difficulty,  therefore,  in  under- 
standing the  Song  of  Solomon.  An  earthly  exegesis 
can  interpret  this  Song  of  Songs  only  from  its  own  point 
of  view.  The  conceptions,  figures,  and  terms  of  the 

spiritual  lyric  are  instinctively  referred  to  earthly  and 

i 
carnal  relationships.     An  unspiritual  mind  cannot,  by 

any  possibility,  rise  into  the  pure  ether  and  element  of 
incorporeal  and  heavenly  Beauty,  in  which  the  writer 
of  this  canticle  moves  his  wings.  But  not  so  the  Au- 
gustines,  the  Anselms,  and  the  Bernards.  These  purged 
and  clear  eyes  were  granted  at  certain  favored  hours, 
and  as  the  result  and  reward  of  their  long  vigils  and 
meditations,  the  immortal  vision  of  the  pure  in  heart. 
And  the  immortal  vision  wakened  the  immortal  longing. 
The  environment  of  earth  and  time  became  a  prison  to 
the  now  illuminated  spirit,  and  it  pined  for  the  hill  of 
frankincense  and  the  mountains  of  myrrh.  Having 
seen  the  King  in  his  beauty,  the  holy  and  ethereal  soul 
fell  into  love-longing.1 

4.  A  fourth  striking  characteristic  of  these  Confes- 
sions is,  the  insight  which  they  afford  into  the  origin  and 


1  The  experience  of  Edwards,  as  portrayed  by  himself,  more  than  that 
of  any  other  modern,  exhibits  these  same  characteristics.  That  rapt  ex- 
ulting vision  of  the  Divine  majesty  and  beauty,  which  fell  upon  him 
like  the  dawn,  in  the  opening  of  his  Christian  life,  flushed  his  entire 
career,  and  entitles  him,  also,  to  the  name  of  the  "  angelic,"  the  "  seraphic  " 
doctor. 


Introduction.  xxvn 


progress  of  the  Christian  experience.  They  are  the 
best  commentary  yet  written  upon  the  seventh  and 
eighth  chapters  of  Romans.  That  quickening  of  the 
human  spirit,  which  puts  it  again  into  vital  and  sensitive 
relations  to  the  holy  and  the  eternal ;  that  illumination 
of  the  mind,  whereby  it  is  enabled  to  perceive  with 
clearness  the  real  nature  of  truth  and  righteousness ;  that 
empowering  of  the  will,  to  the  conflict  and  the  victory, 
— the  entire  process  of  restoring  the  Divine  image  in  the 
soul  of  man,  —  is  delineated  in  this  book,  with  a  vivid- 
ness and  reality  never  exceeded  by  the  uninspired  mind. 
And  particularly  is  the  bondage  of  the  enslaved  will 
brought  to  view.  Augustine,  though  subject  to  pangs  of 
conscience,  and  the  forebodings  of  an  unpardoned  soul, 
from  his  earliest  years,  did  not,  nevertheless,  attain 
evangelical  peace  until  the  thirty-second  year  of  his 
life.  He  died  at  the  age  of  seventy -six ;  so  that  nearly 
one-half  of  his  earthly  existence  was  spent  in  unregen- 
eracy.  He  was  born  and  bred  in  the  midst  of  pagan- 
ism, and  his  tropical,  North-African  nature  immersed 
itself  in  the  ambition  and  sensuality  of  his  clime  and  his 
race,  with  an  intensity  to  which  the  career  of  a  Byron, 
a  Rousseau,  or  a  Heine,  affords  a  nearer  parallel,  than 
does  anything  which  meets  the  eye  in  the  externally 
decent  and  restrained  life  of  modern  society.  To  such 
a  soul  of  flame  was  uttered,  in  tones  that  startled,  and 


xxvni  Introduction. 


tones  that  shattered,  and  tones  that  for  the  moment 
paralyzed,  the  solemn  words:  "Not  in  rioting  and 
drunkenness,  not  in  chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in 
strife  and  envying  ;  but  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  make  not  provision  for  the  flesh"  It  was,  at  first, 
like  the  giving  up  of  the  ghost.  The  effort  to  obey 
was  convulsive.  "  Thou,  O  Lord,  didst  press  upon  me 
inwardly  with  severe  mercy,  redoubling  the  lashes  of 
fear  and  shame,  lest  I  should  again  give  way,  and,  not 
bursting  that  slight  remaining  tie,  it  should  recover 
strength,  and  bind  me  the  faster.  For  I  said  within 
myself,  '  Be  it  done  now,  be  it  done  now.'  And  as  I 
spake,  I  all  but  performed  it.  I  all  but  did  it,  and  did 
it  not ;  yet  sunk  not  back  to  my  former  state,  but  kept 
ray  stand  hard  by,  and  took  breath.  And  I  essayed 
again,  and  wanted  somewhat  less  of  it,  and  somewhat 
less,  and  all  but  touched  and  laid  hold  of  it ;  hesitating 
to  die  to  death,  and  to  live  to  life ;  and  the  worse, 
whereto  I  was  inured,  prevailed  more  with  me  than  the 
better,  whereto  I  was  unused ;  and  as  the  moment  ap- 
proached wherein  I  was  to  become  other  than  I  was, 
the  greater  horror  did  it  strike  into  me ;  yet  did  it  not 
strike  me  back,  nor  turned  me  away,  but  held  me  in 
suspense." 1  What  a  subtle  and  most  truthful  glimpse 
into  the  workings  of  inveterate  sin,  which  has  grown 

l  Confessions,  VIII.  xi.  25. 


Introduction.  xxix 


with  his  growth  and  strengthened  with  his  strength,  is 
afforded  in  the  petition  of  his  early  manhood  :  "  Give 
me  continence,  only  not  yet ! " l  These,  and  a  hundred 
others  like  them,  bring  the  whole  inward  struggle  into 
plain  view.  It  is  a  real  conflict,  in  which  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  suffers  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by 
force.  "We  know  of  no  other  religious  book,  except  the 
Bible  and  Pilgrim's  Progress,  which  makes  so  deep  an 
impression  of  reality  as  this  one.  Religion,  in  the 
experience  here  portrayed,  is  veritable.  The  fears  and 
forebodings  which  herald  it,  are  actual.  The  pangs  and 
throes  that  bring  it  to  the  birth,  are  actual.  The  joys 
and  sorrows,  the  assurance  and  the  doubts,  that  accom- 
pany its  growth,  are  actual.  As  the  doctrinal  system 
of  Augustine  rests  upon  a  basis  of  realism,  so  does  his 
practical  life  and  history.  There  is  nothing  upon  either 
side  that  is  nominal,  fictitious,  ideal. 

But,  the  whole  excellence  of  this  delineation  of  the 
bondage  of  the  apostate  will,  —  which  is  the  cause  of  all 
this  struggle,  —  will  not  be  perceived,  unless  we  notice 
that  Augustine  continually  refers  the  enslavement  to  the 
creature  himself,  and  never  to  the  Creator.  It  is  the 
product  of  self-will,  and  not  of  that  creative  fiat  by 
which  man  was  originally  made  a  holy  and  unenslaved 

spirit  in  the  image  of  God.     "  My  witt  the  enemy  held, 

<* 

l  Confessions,  VIII.  vii.  17. 


xxx  Introduction. 


and  thence  had  made  a  chain  for  me,  and  bound  me.  -For, 
of  a  perverse  witt  comes  lust ;  and  a  lust  yielded  to  be- 
comes custom  ;  and  custom  not  resisted  becomes  necessity. 
By  which  links,  as  it  were,  joined  together  as  in  a  chain, 
a  hard  bondage  held  me  enthralled.  And  that  new  will, 
which  had  begun  to  be  in  me,  to  serve  Thee  freely,  and 
to  wish  to  enjoy  Thee,  O  God,  was  not  yet  able  com- 
pletely to  overcome  my  former  long-established  wilful- 
ness."1  Thus  the  bondage  is  guilt;  and  at  the  very 
instant  when  the  soul  is  weighed  down  with  a  sense  of 
utter  impotence  to  holiness,  it  is  also  prostrate  before 
the  judicial  bar,  with  the  consciousness  of  deserved 
damnation.  The  enslavement  is  not  plead  in  excuse 
of  sin,  because  it  is  acknowledged  to  be  a  part  of  sin, 
and  thus  an  aggravation  of  it.  The  element  of  servi- 
tude, like  the  element  of  blindness,  is  part  and  particle 
of  the  evil  and  abominable  thing  which  the  soul  of  God 
hates.  The  reflex  action  of  transgression  upon  the 
understanding,  is  spiritual  blindness ;  upon  the  heart, 
is  spiritual  haVdness^  and  upon  the  will,  is  spiritual 
bondage.  The  voluntary  faculty  cannot  escape,  any 
more  than  any  other  faculty  of  the  soul,  the  reaction 
of  its  self-action.  Whosoever  commits  sin,  by  and  in 
that  very  voluntary  act,  becomes  the  slave  (SoDAos)  of 
sin.  The  cause  inevitably  carries  its  consequence. 

1  Confessions,  Till.  v.  10. 


Introduction.  xxxi 


That  which  is  done  cannot  be  undone  ;  and  no  will  that 
self-determinedly  apostatizes  can  be  again  the  sound  and 
strong  faculty,  in  reference  to  good,  that  it  was  before 
apostasy,  except  through  the  intervention  of  Divine 
renewing  power.  The  moral  bondage,  therefore,  like 
the  moral  blindness,  and  the  moral  hardness,  enters  into 
the  sum-total  of  human  depravity,  and  goes  to  swell  the 
sum-total  of  human  condemnation.  All  this,  though  not 
drawn  out  in  this  dialectic  manner,  is  implied  in  Augus- 
tine's anthropology.  Nowhere  is  there  a  more  profound 
consciousness  of  the  impotence  of  the  apostate  will,  and 
nowhere  is  there  a  more  heartfelt  and  humble  sense 
of  personal  ill-desert,  than  is  expressed  in  these  Con- 
fessions.1 

Such  are  some  of  the  more  salient  points  in  the  auto- 
biography of  Augustine.  A  moment's  reflection  upon 
them  will  reveal  that  they  are  of  the  very  highest  order, 
and  that  such  a  religious  experience  as  is  here  por- 

1  We  have  dwelt  the  longer  upon  this  point,  because  it  has  been  as- 
serted that  Augustine's  theory  of  grace  and  election  is  fatalism.  Mil- 
man's  portrait  of  the  Latin  Father  (Primitive  Christianity,  Book  III. 
Chap,  x  )  is,  in  many  of  its  feature*,  an  accurate  one;  and  the  general  col- 
oring is  laid  on  with  an  admiring,  and  even  an  enthusiastic  eye.  But  Mil- 
man  represents  Augustiniani.-m  as  "  offering  up  free  agency  upon  the  altar 
of  religion,  and  thereby  degrading  the  most  wonderful  work  of  Omnipo- 
tence,—  a  being  endowed  with  free  agency."  The  misconception  arises 
from  overlooking  the  fact  that,  in  Augustine's  system,  the  bondage  and 
impotence  of  the  apostate  will  are  the  consequence  and  result  of  an  act  of 
witt.  Se(/"-enslavement  and  tflf-rnm  is  one  thing ;  enslavement  by  the 
creative  act,  and  ruin  by  compulsory  force,  is  another.  The  charge  of 
fatalism  can  logically  be  made  only  against  this  latter. 


XXXTI  Introduction. 


trayed,  cannot  be  studied  without  profit.  This  book  is 
worthy  of  being  made  a  manual  of  devotion.  It  is  not 
claimed  to  be  entirely  free  from  erroneous  aspects  of 
truth.  No  man  wholly  escapes  the  faults  of  his  age  ; 
and  the  Confessions  of  Augustine  exhibit  some  of  the 
deficiencies  of  the  Church  of  the  fourth  century.  But 
in  reference  to  the  permanent  and  everlasting  elements 
of  the  Christian  experience,  the  great  main  charac- 
teristics of  the  Christian  life,  here  is  certainly  a  bold 
and  accurate,  a  clear  and  large  utterance.  We  are  con- 
fident that  familiarity  with  this  book,  for  even  a  single 
year,  would  perceptibly  affect  the  individual's  religious 
experience.  It  would  infuse  into  it  the  rare  quality  of 
vividness.  There  are  no  stereotyped  phrases,  no  tech- 
nical terms  or  forms.  It  is  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul 
of  a  strong  man,  rushing  and  rippling  with  the  freedom 
of  the  life  of  nature.  He  who  watches  can  almost  see 
the  growth ;  he  who  listens  can  hear  the'  perpetual 
motion ;  and  he  who  is  in  sympathy  will  be  swept 
along. 

The  editing  of  these  Confessions  has  been  a  labor  of 
love.  As  we  have  scanned  the  sentences  and  syllables, 
we  have  seemed  to  hear  the  beating  of  that  flaming 
heart,  which,  now  for  fifteen  centuries,  has  burnt  and 
throbbed  with  a  seraph's  affection  in  the  Mount  of  God. 
"NVe  have  seemed  to  look  into  that  deep  and  spiritual 


Introduction.  xxxm 


eye,  which  gazed  without  shrinking,  yet  with  bitter  pen- 
itential tears,  into  the  depths  of  a  tormenting  conscience 
and  a  sinful  nature,  that  it  might  then  gaze  without  daz- 
zling, and  with  unutterable  rapture,  into  the  eyes  and 
face  of  The  Eternal.  Our  Protestantism  concedes,  with- 
out scruple,  the  cognomen  of  Saint  to  this  ethereal 
spirit.  Our  Christianity  triumphs  in  that  marvellous 
power  of  grace,  which  wrought  such  a  wonderful  trans- 
formation. Having  this  example  and  living  fact  before 
our  view,  we  believe  that  Christ,  the  Lord,  has  all 
power,  both  in  heaven  and  upon  earth ;  and  that  there 
is  lodged  in  his  pierced  and  bleeding  hands  a  spiritual 
energy  that  is  able  to  renovate  the  mightiest,  and  the 
most  vitiated  forms  of  humanity.  The  Caesars  and 
Napoleons,  the  Byrons  and  Rousseaus,  all  the  passion- 
ate spirits,  all  the  stormy  Titans,  are  within  reach  of 
that  irresistible  influence  which  is  garnered  up  in  the 
Redemption  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  which  is  accessible 
to  the  prayers  and  the  faith  of  the  church. 


The  following  sketch  of  the  life  of  Augustine,  given 
in  the  compact  grouping  and  terse  statement  of  Gue- 
ricke,1  is  appended  for  the  convenience  of  the  reader. 


1  Guericke's  Church  History,  {  91. 
3 


xxxrv  Introduction. 


"  Aurelius  Augustinus,  born  at  Tagaste,  in  Numidia, 
Nov.  13,  354,  a  man  of  deep  and  powerful  nature,  not 
the  most  learned,  yet  the  greatest  of  the  fathers,  and  in 
whose  energetic  mind  acuteness  and  profundity  were 
blended  jn  their  highest  degrees,  after  victoriously  pass- 
ing through  the  most  violent  inward  conflicts,  had  at- 
tained evangelical  peace  of  conscience.  Though  early 
pointed  to  Christ  by  his  excellent  mother  Monica,  he 
had  become  distractingly  immersed  in  the  ambitions  and 
sensualities  of  earth  during  his  residence  in  Carthage, 
—  whither  he  had  repaired  for  literary  culture  after 
previous  studies  at  Tagaste  and  Madaura,  —  when,  in 
his  nineteenth  year,  the  Hortensius  of  Cicero  wakened 
a  new  aspiration  within  him  after  the  truth.  But,  with 
all  his  newly-awakened  longing  after  a  higher  life,  the 
power  to  realize  his  aspiration  was  ever  wanting.  ;  As  a 
teacher  of  rhetoric  at  Carthage  (from  376),  afterwards 
at  Rome,  and  finally  at  Milan  (from  384),  he  was  con- 
tinually wavering  between  the  world  and  God,  in  a 
constant  conflict  between  his  ambition  and  lust  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  unmistakable  remorse  and  aspirings 
of  his  soul,  and  the  prayers  and  tears  of  his  mother,  on 
the  other.  For  nine  years  he  sought  for  truth  among 
the  Manicheans,  who  did  not  demand  or  insist  upon  faith, 
but  talked  much  of  a  higher  cognition  of  the  reason  ; 
and  who,  by  employing  apparently  Christian  phrase- 


Introduction.  xxxv 


ology,  seemed  to  join  on  upon  the  ineradicable  impres- 
sions and  instructions  of  his  childhood.  Seeing  himself 
deceived,  he  began  to  fall  into  scepticism,  and  was  again 
speculatively  reestablished  by  the  Platonic  philosophy. 
But  he  could  not  find  in  this  human  system  the  two 
things  he  was  seeking  for,  namely,  peace  with  conscience 
and  God,  and  the  renovating  power  requisite  to  a  holy 
life.  Through  various  remarkable  providences,  and 
stormy  conflicts,  both  of  the  outer  and  the  inner  life, 
he  was,  at  length,  in  the  year  386,  at  Milan,  brought  to 
a  believing  reception  of  the  gospel,  in  its  purity  and 
simplicity,  —  a  crisis  for  which  the  preparation  had  long 
been  going  on  in  his  soul,  and  which  was  accelerated  by 
the  startling  impression  made  upon  him  by  the  passage 
in  Romans  xiii.  13, 14,  to  which  he  had  casually  opened, 
on  seeming  to  hear  from  on  high,  in  a  moment  of  deep 
spiritual  despondency,  the  words:  "Tolle,  lege"  He 
received  baptism,  together  with  his  natural  son,  Adeo- 
datus,  a  youth  of  fifteen,  on  Easter-Sunday,  387,  from 
bishop  Ambrose,  to  whose  spiritual  instructions  he  was 
greatly  indebted  for  his  new  experience.  From  this 
time  onward,  he  drew  without*  ceasing  from  the  fountain 
of  light  and  peace  which  welled  up  within,  and  there  fol- 
lowed that  new  and  ever-expanding  life  of  consecration 
to  God,  of  Christian  knowledge  and  holiness,  which  has 
made  him  a  teacher  for  all  succeeding  centuries.  Au- 


xxxvi  Introduction* 


gustine  gave  up  the  profession  of  a  rhetorician,  which 
had  in  various  ways  ministered  to  his  vanity,  and  in  388 
returned  to  Africa,  where,  though  feeling  himself  to  be 
unfit  for  the  office,  he  was  made  presbyter  in  391,  and, 
in  395  (at  the  pressing  request  of  the  aged  bishop  Val- 
erius, and  in  ignorance  of  the  church  statute  forbidding 
it),  co-bishop,  and  then,  probably  in  396,  sole  bishop 
of  Hippo  Regius  in  Numidia.  Here  he  labored,  not 
merely  for  his  own  particular  charge,  but  also,  —  by 
training  up  capable  teachers  and  clergymen,  and  in  all 
other  ways, — for  the  entire  North- African  church,  which 
he  led  and  guided  by  the  power  of  his  intellect,  with 
manifest  blessing.  In  the  last  part  of  his  life,  he  was 
compelled  to  see  great  suffering  befall  his  church  and 
native  land,  from  the  Vandals,  and  finally  died,  August 
28,  430,  hi  Hippo,  which  had  already  been  closely  be- 
sieged three  months  by  them,  —  spending  the  last  ten 
days  of  his  life  absorbed  in  meditation  and  prayer." 

THE   EDITOR. 

AXDOVZB. 


THE 


CONFESSIONS  OF  AUGUSTINE, 

BISHOP    OF    HIPPO. 


THE  FIRST  BOOK. 

CONFESSION  OF  THE  GREATNESS  AND  UNSEARCHABLENE88  OF  GOD  — 
OF  GOD'S  MERCIES  IN  INFANCY  AND  BOYHOOD,  AND  HUMAN  WIL- 
FULNES8 —  OF  HIS  OWN  SINS  OF  IDLENESS,  ABUSE  OF  HIS  STUDIES, 
AND  OF  GOD'S  GIFTS  UP  TO  HIS  FIFTEENTH  YEAR. 

I.  1.  Great  art  Thou,  0  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be 
praised;  great  is  Thy  poicer,  and  Thy  wisdom  in- 
finite* And  Thee  man  would  praise ;  man,  but  a 
particle  of  Thy  creation ;  man,  that  bears  about  him 
his  mortality,  the  witness  of  his  sin,  the  witness  that 
TJwu,  O  God,  resistest  the  proud:2  yet  would  man 
praise  Thee;  he,  but  a  particle  of  Thy  creation. 
Thou  awakest  us  to  delight  in  Thy  praise ;  for  Thou 
madest  us  for  Thyself,  and  our  heart  is  restless,  un- 
til it  repose  in  Thee.  Grant  me,  Lord,  to  know  and 
understand  which  is  first,  to  call  on  Thee  or  to  praise 
Thee  ?  and,  again,  to  know  Thee  or  to  call  on  Thee  ? 
for  who  can  call  on  Thee,  not  knowing  Thee  ?  for  he 

1  Ts.  cxlv.  3;  cxlvii.  5.  2  Jas.  iv.  6;  1  Pet.  v.  5. 


The  greatness  of  God. 


that  knowcth  Thee  not,  may  call  on  Thee  as  other 
than  Thou  art.  Or,  is  it  rather,  that  we  call  on  Thee 
that  we  may  know  Thee  ?  but  how  shall  they  call  on 
Him  in  whom  they  have  not  believed?  or  how  shall 
they  believe  without  a  jireacher?*  and  they  that  seek 
the  Lord  shall  praise  Him:2  for  they  that  seek  shall 
find  Him?  and  they  that  find  shall  praise  Him.  I 
will  seek  Thee,  Lord,  by  calling  on  Thee ;  and  I  will 
call  on  Thee,  believing  in  Thee ;  for  to  us  hast  Thou 
been  preached.  My  faith,  Lord,  shall  call  on  Thee, 
which  Thou  hast  given  me,  wherewith  Thou  hast 
inspired  me,  through  the  Incarnation  of  Thy  Son, 
through  the  ministry  of  thy  Preacher. 

II.  2.  And  how  shall  I  call  upon  my  God,  my 
God  and  Lord,  since,  when  I  call  for  Him,  I  shall  be 
calling  Him  into  myself?  and  what  room  is  there 
within  me,  whither  my  God  can  come  into  me? 
whither  can  God  come  into  me,  God  who  made 
heaven  and  earth  ?  is  there,  indeed,  O  Lord  my  God, 
aught  m  me  that  can  contain  Thee  ?  do  then  heaven 
and  earth,  which  Thou  hast  made,  and  wherein  Thou 
hast  made  me,  contain  Thee  ?  or,  because  nothing 
which  exists  could  exist  without  Thee,  doth  therefore 
whatever  exists  .contain  Thee?  Since,  then,  I  too 
exist,  why  do  I  seek  that  Thou  shouldest  enter  into 
me,  who  were  not,  wert  Thou  not  in  me  ?  Why  ? 
because  I  am  not  gone  down  in  hell,  and  yet  Thou 
art  there  also.  For  if  I  go  down  into  hell,  Thou  art 
there*  I  could  not  be  then,  O  my  God,  could  not  be 
at  all,  wert  Thou  not  in  me ;  or,  rather,  unless  I  were 

1  Itom.  x.  14.        2  Ts  xxii.  26.        3  Matt.  vii.  7.        <  Fs.  cxxxix.  7. 


Difficulties  in  conceiving  of  God.  .  3 

in  Thee,  of  ichom  are  all  things,  by  whom  are  all 
things,  in  whom  are  all  things?1  Even  so,  Lord, 
even  so.  Whither  do  I  call  Thee,  since  I  am  in 
Thee  ?  or  whence  canst  Thou  enter  into  me  ?  for 
whither  can  I  go  beyond  heaven  and  earth,  that 
thence  my  God  should  come  into  me,  who  hath  said, 
I  fill  the  heaven  and  the,  earth? 

III.  3.  Do  the  heaven  and  earth,  then,  contain 
Thee,  since  Thou  fillest  them  ?  or  dost  Thou  fill 
them  and  yet  overflow,  since  they  do  not  contain 
Thee?  And  whither,  when  the  heaven  and  the 
earth  are  filled,  pourest  Thou  forth  the  remainder  of 
Thyself?  or  hast  Thou  no  need  that  aught  contain 
Thee,  who  containest  all  things,  since  what  Thou 
fillest  Thou  fillest  by  containing  it  ?  for  the  vessels 
which  Thou  fillest  xiphoid  Thee  not,  since,  though 
they  were  broken,  Thou  wert  not  poured  out.  And 
when  Thou  art  poured  out3  on  us,  Thou  art  not  cast 
down,  but  Thou  upliftest  us  ;  Thou  art  not  dissipated, 
but  Thou  gatherest  us.  But  Thou  who  fillest  all 
things,  fillest  Thou  them  with  Thy  whole  self?  or, 
since  all  things  cannot  contain  Thee  wholly,  do  they 
contain  part  of  Thee?  and  all  at  once  the  same  part? 
or  each  its  own  part,  the  greater  more,  the  smaller 
less  ?  And  is,  then,  one  part  of  Thee  greater,  an- 
other less?  or,  art  Thou  wholly  everywhere,  while 
nothing  contains  Thee  wholly  ? 

IV.  4.  What  art  Thou,  then,  my  God?  what,  but 
the  Lord  God?  For  icho  is  Lord  but  the  Lord  f  or 
who  is  God  save  our  God?*  Most  highest,  most 

1  Rom.  xi.  36.         -  Jer.  xxiii.  24.         3  Acts  ii.  18.         <  1's.  xvii.  31. 


4  God's  attributes  to  men  contradictory. 

good,  most  potent,  most  omnipotent ;  most  merciful, 
yet  most  just ;  most  hidden,  yet  most  present ;  most 
beautiful,  yet  most  strong ;  stable,  yet  incomprehen- 
sible ;  unchangeable,  yet  all-changing ;  never  new, 
never  old ;  all-renewing,  and  bringing  age  upon  the 
proud,  and  they  know  it  not;  ever  working,  ever  at 
rest ;  still  gathering,  yet  not  lacking ;  supporting,  fill- 
ing, and  overspreading;  creating,  nourishing,  and 
maturing;  seeking,  yet  having  all  things.  Thou 
lovest,  without  passion ;  art  jealous,  without  anxiety ; 
repentest,  yet  grievest  not ;  art  angry,  yet  serene ; 
changest  Thy  works,  Thy  purpose  unchanged ;  re- 
ceivest  again  what  Thou  findest,  yet  didst  never  lose ; 
never  in  need,  yet  rejoicing  in  gains ;  never  covetous, 
yet  exacting  usury.1  Thou  receivest  over  and  above, 
that  Thou  mayest  owe ;  and  who  hath  aught  that  is 
not  Thine?  Thou  payest  debts,  owing  nothing; 
remittest  debts,  losing  nothing.  And  what  have  I 
now  said,  my  God,  my  life,  my  holy  joy?  or  what 
saith  any  man  when  he  speaks  of  Thee  ?  Yet  woe 
to  him  that  speaketh  not,  since  mute  are  even  the 
most  eloquent. 

V.  5.  Oh!  that  I  might  repose  on  Thee!  Oh! 
that  Thou  wouldest  enter  into  my  heart,  and  inebri- 
ate it,  that  I  may  forget  my  ills,  and  embrace  Thee, 
my  sole  good !  "What  art  Thou  to  me,  O  Lord  ? 
Have  mercy  on  me,  that  I  may  tell.  Or  what  am  I 
to  Thee,  that  Thou  shouldest  command  me  to  love 
Thee,  yea,  and  be  angry  with  me,  and  threaten  to 
lay  huge  miseries  upon  me,  if  I  love  Thee  not  ?  Is 

i  Matt.  xxv.  27. 


God's  mercies  in  Infancy. 


it  then  a  slight  woe  to  love  Thee  not?  Oh !  for  Thy 
mercies'  sake,  tell  me,  O  Lord  my  God,  what  Thou 
art  unto  me.  Say  unto  my  soul,  I  am  TJiy  salva- 
tion;1 but  say  it  so  that  I  may  hear  Thee.  Behold, 
Lord,  my  heart  is  before  Thee ;  open  Thou  the  ears 
thereof,  and  say  unto  my  soul,  I  am  thy  salvation*  I 
will  run  after  the  sound  of  Thy  voice,  and  lay  hold 
on  Thee.  Hide  not  Thou  Thy  face  from  me.  Let 
me  die  that  so  I  may  see  it ;  lest  otherwise  I  may  so 
die  as  not  to  see  it. 

6.  The  house  of  my  soul  is  too  strait  for  Thee  to 
come  into ;  but  let  it,  O  Lord,  be  enlarged,  that  Thou 
mayest  enter  in.  It  is  ruinous ;  repair  Thou  it.  It 
has  that  within  which  must  offend  Thine  eyes ;  I  con- 
fess and  know  it.  But  who  shall  cleanse  it  ?  or  to 
whom  should  I  cry  out,  save  Thee  ?  Cleanse  me 
from  my  secret  faults,  0  Lord,  and  forgive  those 
offences  to  Tliy  servant  which  he  has  caused  in  otlier 
folks.  I  believe 2  in  Thee,  and  therefore  do  I  speak? 
O  Lord,  Thou  knowest  this.  Have  I  not  confessed 
against  myself  my  transgressions  unto  TJiee,  and, 
Thou,  my  God,  hast  forgiven  the  iniquity  of  my 
heart?*  I  contend  not  in  judgment  with  Thee,5  who 
art  truth ;  I  fear  to  deceive  myself;  lest  my  sin 
should  make  me  think  that  lam  not  sinful.6  There- 
fore I  contend  not  in  judgment  with  Thee  ;  for  if 
Thou,  Lord,  shouldest  mark  iniquities,  0  Lord,  who 
shall  abide  it  ? T 


1  Ps.  xxxv.  3.  4  Pg.  xxxii.  5.  6  P8.  xxvi.  12.  —  Vnlg. 

2  Ps.  xix.  12, 13.  5  Job  ix.  3.  1  Ps.  cxxx.  3. 

3  Ps.  cxvi.  10. 


Wilful-ness  of  Infancy. 


VI.  7.  Yet  suffer  Thou  me  to  speak  unto  Thy 
mercy,  me,  dust  and- ashes.1  Yet  suffer  me  to  speak, 
since  I  speak  to  Thy  mercy,  and  not  to  scornful  man. 
Thou  too,  perhaps,  dost  laugh  at  me,  yet  wilt  Thou 
turn  and  have  compassion*  upon  me.  For  what 
would  I  say,  O  Lord  my  God,  but  that  I  know  not 
whence  I  came  into  this  dying  life  (shall  I  call  it?) 
or  living  death.  Then  immediately  did  the  comforts 
of  Thy  compassion  take  me  up,  as  I  heard  (for  I 
remember  it  not)  from  the  parents  of  my  flesh,  out 
of  whose  substance  Thou  didst  sometime  fashion  me. 
Then  the  comforts  of  woman's  milk  entertained  me. 
For  neither  my  mother  nor  my  nurses  stored  their 
own  breasts  for  me ;  but  Thou  didst  bestow  the  food 
of  my  infancy  through  them,  according  to  Thine  ordi- 
nance, whereby  Thou  distributest  Thy  riches  through 
the  hidden  springs  of  all  things.  Thou  also  gavest 
me  to  desire  no  more  than  Thou  gavest ;  and  to  my 
nurses  willingly  to  give  me  what  Thou  gavest  them. 
For  they,  with  an  heaven-taught  affection,  willingly 
gave  me  what  they  abounded  with  from  Thee.  _  For 
this  my  good  from  them,  was  good  for  them.  Nor, 
indeed,  from  them  was  it,  but  through  them ;  for  from 
TBec,  O  God,  are  all  good  things,  and  from  my  God 
is  all  my  health.  This  I  afterwards  learned,  when 
Thou,  through  these  Thy  benedictions,  within  me 
and  without,  proclaimedst  Thyself  unto  me.  For 
then  I  knew  but  to  suck ;  to  repose  in  what  pleased, 
and  cry  at  what  offended  my  flesh ;  nothing  more. 

8.  Afterwards  I  began  to  smile ;  first  in  sleep,  then 

l  Gen.  xviii.  27.  2  Jer.  xii.  15. 


Wilftdness  of  Infancy. 


waking;  for  so  it  was  told  me  of  myself,  and  I  be- 
lieved it;  for  we  see  the  like  in  other  infants,  though 

f  '  O 

of  myself  I  remember  it  not.  Thus,  little  by  little, 
I  began  to  find  where  I  was;  and  to  have  a  wish 
to  express  my  wishes  to  those  who  could  content 
them,  and  I  could  not ;  for  the  wishes  were  within 
me,  and  those  persons  without ;  nor  could  they  by 
any  sense  of  theirs  enter  within  my  soul.  So  I  flung 
about  at  random  limbs  and  voice,  making  the  few 
signs  I  could,  and  such  as  I  could,  like,  though  in 
truth  very  little  like,  what  I  wished.  And  when  I 
was  not  presently  obeyed  (my  wishes  being  hurtful 
or  unintelligible),  then  I  was  indignant  with  my  el- 
ders for  not  submitting  to  me ;  with  those  owing  me 
no  service,  for  not  serving  me ;  and  avenged  myself 
on  them  by  tears.  Such  have  I  learnt  infants  to  be 
from  observing  them ;  and,  that  I  was  myself  such, 
they,  all  unconscious,  have  shown  me  better  than 
my  nurses  who  knew  it. 

9.  And,  lo  !  my  infancy  died  long  since,  and  I  live. 
But  Thou,  Lord,  who  for  ever  livest,  and  in  whom 
nothing  dies :  for  before  the  foundation  of  the  worlds, 
and  before  all  that  can  be  called  "  before,"  Thou  art, 
and  art  God  and  Lord  of  all  which  Thou  hast  cre- 
ated :  in  Thee  abide,  fixed  for  ever,  the  first  causes 
of  all  things  unabiding;  and  of  all  things  changeable, 
the  springs  abide  in  Thee  unchangeable:  and  in  Thee 
live  the  eternal  reasons  of  all  things  unreasoning  and 

o  o 

temporal.  Say,  Lord,  to  me,  Thy  suppliant ;  say,  all- 
pitying,  to  me,  Thy  pitiable  one ;  say,  did  my  infancy 
succeed  another  age  of  mine  that  died  before  it? 


8  Weakness  of  Infancy. 

Was  it  that  which  I  spent  within  my  mother's  womb? 
for  of  that  I  have  heard  somewhat,  and  have  myself 
seen  wo.men  with  child.  And  what,  again,  was  I  be- 
fore that  life,  O  God  my  joy?  Was  I  anywhere  or 
anybody  ?  For  this  have  I  none  to  tell  me,  neither 
father  nor  mother,  nor  experience  of  others,  nor 
mine  own  memory.  Dost  Thou  laugh  at  me  for 
asking  this  and  bid  me  praise  Thee  and  acknowl- 
edge Thee,  for  that  which  I  do  know  ? 

10.  I  acknowledge  Thee,  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth,  and  praise  Thee  for  my  first  rudiments  of 
being,  and  my  infancy,  whereof  I  remember  nothing; 
for  Thou  hast  appointed  that  man  should  from  others 
guess  much  as  to  himself;  and  believe  much  on  the 
authority  of  simple  women.  Even  then  I  had  a 
being  and  a  life,  and  (at  my  infancy's  close)  I  sought 
for  signs,  whereby  to  make  myself  known  to  others. 
Whence  could  such  a  being  be,  save  from  Thee, 
Lord?  Shall  any  be  his  own  artificer?  or  can  there 
elsewhere  be  derived  any  vein,  which  may  stream 
essence  and  life  into  us,  save  from  Thee,  O  Lord,  in 
whom  essence  and  life  are  not  several  but  one  ?  for 
supremely  to  live  is  the  very  thing  in  itself  which 
Thou  art.  For  Thou  art  supreme,  and  art  not 
changed^  neither  in  Thee  doth  to-day  come  to  a 
close ;  yet  in  Thee  doth  it  come  to  a  close ;  because 
all  transitory  things  also  are  in  Thee.  For  they  had 
no  way  to  pass  away,  unless  Thou  upheldest  them. 
And  since  Thy  years  fail  not?  Thy  years  are  one  to- 
day. How  many  of  ours  and  our  fathers'  years  have 

1  Mai.  iii.  6.  2  Ps.  cii.  27. 


Sinf idness  in  infants  without  actual  sin.         9 

flowed  away  through  Thy  "  to-day,"  and  from  it  re- 
ceived the  measure  and  the  mould  of  a  kind  of 
being ;  and  still  others  shall  flow  away,  and  so 
receive  the  mould  of  their  kind  of  being.  But  Thou 
art  still  the  same,1  and  all  things  of  to-morrow,  and 
all  beyond,  and  all  of  yesterday,  and  all  behind  it, 
Thou  wilt  do  in  this  "to-day,"  Thou  hast  done  iu 
this  "  to-day."  What  is  it  to  me,  though  any  com- 
prehend not  this?  Let  him  also  rejoice  and  say, 
What  thing  is  this.2  Let  him  rejoice  even  thus ; 
and  be  content  rather  by  not  discovering  to  discover 
Thee,  than  by  discovering  not  to  discover  Thee. 

VII.  11.  Hear,  O  God.  Alas,  for  man's  sin!  So 
saith  man,  and  Thou  pitiest  him ;  for  Thou  madest 
him,  but  sin  in  him  Thou  madest  not.  Who  reniind- 
eth  me  of  the  sins  of  my  infancy  ?  for  in  Thy  sight 
none  is  pure  from  sin,  not  even  the  infant  whose  life 
is  but  a  day  upon  the  earth.3  Who  remindeth  me? 
doth  not  each  little  infant,  in  whom  I  see  what  of 
myself  I  remember  not  ?  What  then  was  my  sin  ? 
was  it  that  I  hung  upon  the  breast  and  cried  ?  for 
should  I  now  so  do  for  food  suitable  to  my  age,  justly 
should  I  be  laughed  at  and  reproved.  What  I  then 
did  was  in  itself  worthy  reproof;  but  since  I  could 
not  understand  reproof,  custom  and  reason  forbade 
me  to  be  reproved.  For  such  things,  when  we  are 
grown,  we  root  out  and  cast  away.  Now,  no  man, 
though  he  prunes,  wittingly  casts  away  what  is  good.4 
Or  was  it  then  good,  even  for  a  while,  to  cry  for  what, 
if  given,  would  hurt?  bitterly  to  resent,  that  persons 

l  Ps.  cii.  27.         2  Exod.  xvi.  15.         3  Job  xxv.  4.         <  John  xv.  2. 


10          Infanffs  malice  and  God's  goodness. 

free-born,  and  its  own  elders,  yea,  the  very  authors 
of  its  birth,  served  it  not  ?  that  many  besides,  wiser 
than  it,  obeyed  not  the  nod  of  its  good  pleasure  ? 
to  do  its  best  to  strike  and  hurt,  because  commands 
were  not  obeyed,  which  had  been  obeyed  to  its 
hurt?  The  weakness  then  of  infant  limbs,  not 
its  will,  is  its  innocence.  Myself  have  seen  and 
known  even  a  baby  envious ;  it  could  not  speak,  yet 
it  turned  pale  and  looked  bitterly  on  its  foster- 
brother.  "Who  knows  not  this  ?  Mothers  and  nurses 
tell  you,  that  they  allay  these  things  by  I  know  not 
what  remedies.  Is  that  too  innocence,  when  the 
fountain  of  milk  is  flowing  in  rich  abundance,  not  to 
endure  one  to  share  it  though  in  extremes!  need,  and 
whose  very  life  as  yet  depends  thereon  ?  "We  bear 
gently  with  all  this,  not  as  being  no  or  slight  evils, 
but  because  they  will  disappear  as  years  increase ;  for, 
though  tolerated  now,  the  very  same  tempera  are 
utterly  intolerable  when  found  in  riper  years. 

12.  Thou,  then,  O  Lord  my  God,  who  gavest  life 
to  this  my  infancy,  furnishing  thus  with  senses  (as 
we  see)  the  frame  Thou  gavest,  compacting  its  limbs, 
beautifying  its  proportions,  and,  for  its  general  good 
and  safety,  implanting  in  it  all  vital  functions,  Thou 
commandest  me  to  praise  Thee  in  these  tilings,  to 
confess  unto  27ice,  and  sing  unto  TJiy  name,  Thou 
most  High.1  For  Thou  art  God,  Almighty  and 
Good,  even  hadst  Thou  done  nought  but  only  this, 
which  none  could  do  but  Thou :  whose  Unity  is  the 
mould  of  all  things ;  who  out  of  Thy  own  beauty 

l  Ps.  xcii.  1. 


Learning  to  speak,  1 1 

makest  all  things  fair ;  and  orderest  all  things  by 
Thy  law.  This  age  then,  Lord,  whereof  I  have  no 
remembrance,  which  I  take  on  others'  word,  and 
guess  from  other  infants -that  I  have  passed,  true 
though  the  guess  be,  I  am  yet  loath  to  count  in  this 
life  of  mine  which  I  live  in  this  world.  For  no  less 
than  that  which  I  spent  in  my  mother's  womb,  is  it 
hid  from  me  in  the  shadows  of  forgetfulness.  But 
if  I  was  shopen  in  iniquity,  and  in  sin  did  my  mother 
conceive  me,1  where,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  my  God, 
where,  Lord,  or  when,  was  I  Thy  servant  guiltless? 
But,  lo  !  that  period  I  pass  by ;  for  what  have  I  now 
to  do  with  that,  of.  which  I  can  recall  no  vestige  ? 

VIII.  lo.  From  the  state  of  infancy,  I  came  to 
boyhood,  or  rather  it  came  to  me,  displacing  infancy. 
Nor  did  that  depart  —  (for  whither  went  it  ?)  — and 
yet  it  was  no  more.  For  I  was  no  longer  a  speech- 
less infant,  but  a  speaking  boy.  This  I  remember ; 
and  have  since  observed  how  I  learned  to  speak.  It 
was  not  that  my  elders  taught  me  words  (as,  soon 
after,  other  learning)  in  any  set  method  ;  but  I,  long- 
ing by  cries  and  broken  accents  and  various  motions 
of  my  limbs  to  express  my  thoughts,  that  so  I  might 
have  my  will,  and  yet  unable  to  express  all  I  willed, 
or  to  whom  I  willed,  did  myself,  by  the  understand- 
ing which  Thou,  my  God,  gavest  me,  practise  the 
sounds  in  my  memory.  When  they  named  anything, 
and  as  they  spoke  turned  towards  it,  I  saw  and  re- 
membered that  they  called  what  they  would  point 
out,  by  the  name  they  uttered.  And  that  they 

1  Ps.  li.  7. 


12  Childish  griefs  great  to  children. 

meant  this  thing  and  no  other,  was  plain  from  the 
motion  of  their  body,  the  natural  language,  as  it 
were,  of  all  nations,  expressed  by  the  countenance, 
glances  of  the  eye,  gestures  of  the  limbs,  and  tones 
of  the  voice,  indicating  the  affections  of  the  mind, 
as  it  pursues,  possesses,  rejects,  or  shuns.  And  thus 
by  constantly  hearing  words,  as  they  occurred  in  va- 
rious sentences,  I  collected  gradually  for  what  they 
stood ;  and  having  broken  in  my  mouth  to  these 
signs,  I  thereby  gave  utterance  to  my  will.  Thus  I 
exchanged  with  those  about  me  these  current  signs 
of  our  wills,  and  so  launched  deeper  into  the  stormy 
intercourse  of  human  life,  yet  depending  on  parental 
authority  and  the  beck  of  elders. 

IX.  14.  O  God,  my  God,  what  miseries  and  mock- 
eries did  I  now  experience,  when  obedience  to  my 
teachers  was  proposed  to  me,  as  proper  in  a  boy,  in 
order  that  in  this  world  I  might  prosper,  and  excel 
in  tongue-science,  which  should  serve  to  the \"  praise 
of  men,"  and  to  deceitful  riches.  Next  I  was  put  to 
school  to  get  learning,  in  which  I  (poor  wretch) 
knew  not  what  use  there  was ;  and  yet,  if  idle  in 
learning,  I  was  beaten.  For  this  was  judged  right 
by  our  forefathers;  and  many,  passing  the  same 
course  before  us,  framed  for  us  weary  paths,  through 
which  we  were  fain  to  pass ;  multiplying  toil  and 
grief  upon  the  sons  of  Adam.  But,  O  Lord,  we  found 
that  men  called  upon  Thee,  and  we  learnt  from  them 
to  think  of  Thee  (according  to  our  powers)  as  of 
some  great  One,  who,  though  hidden  from  our  senses, 
could  hear  and  help  us.  So  I  began,  yet  a  boy,  to 


Inconsistency  toward  children.  13 

pray  to  Thee  for  aid  and  refuge ;  and  I  broke  the 
fetters  of  my  tongue  to  call  on  Thee,  praying, 
though  small,  yet  with  no  small  earnestness,  that  I 
might  not  be  beaten  at  school.  And  when  Thou 
heardest  me  not  (not  thereby  giving  me  over  to 
fotty)^  my  elders,  yea,  my  very  parents,  who  yet 
wished  me  no  ill,  laughed  at  my  stripes,  my  then 
great  and  grievous  misery. 

15.  Is  there,  Lord,  any  of  soul  so  great,  and  cleav- 
ing to  Thee  with  so  intense  affection  (for  a  sort  of 
stupidity  will  in  a  way  do  it)  ;  but  is  there  any  one 
who,  from  cleaving  devoutly  to  Thee,  is  endued  with 
so  great  a  spirit,  that  he  can  think  as  lightly  of  the 
racks  and  hooks  and  other  torments  (against  which, 
throughout  all  lands,  men  call  on  Thee  with  extreme 
dread),  and  make  sport  at  those  by  whom  they  are 
feared  most  bitterly,  as  our  parents  laughed  at  the  tor- 
ments which  we  suffered  in  boyhood  from  our  mas- 
ters? For  we  feared  not  those  torments  less  than  the 
martyrs  theirs,  nor  prayed  we  less  to  escape  them. 
And  yet  we  sinned,  in  writing,  or  reading,  or  study- 
ing less  than  was  exacted  of  us.  For  we  wanted  not, 
O  Lord,  memory  or  capacity,  whereof  Thy  will' gave 
enough  for  our  age  ;  but  our  sole  delight  was  play ; 
and  for  this  we  were  punished  by  those  who  yet  them- 
selves were  doing  the  like.  But  elder  folks'  idleness 
is  called  "  business ;"  that  of  boys,  although  really  the 
same,  is  punished  by  those  elders ;  and  none  commis- 
erate either  boys  or  men.  For  will  any  of  sound  dis- 
discretion  approve  of  my  being  beaten  as  a  boy,  be- 

i  I's.  xxi.  3.— Vulg. 
4 


14  Inconsistency  totcard  children. 

cause,  by  playing  at  ball,  I  made  less  progress  in 
studies  which  I  was  to  learn,  only  that,  as  a  man,  I 
might  play  more  dangerously  ?  for  how  else  was  it 
with  him  who  beat  me?  if  worsted  in  some  trifling 
discussion  with  his  fellow-tutor,  he  was  more  embit- 
tered and  jealous  than  I,  when  beaten  at  ball  by  a 
play-fellow  ? 

X.  16.  And  yet,  I  sinned  herein,  O  Lord  God,  the 
Greater  and  Orderer  of  all  things  in  nature,  of  sin 
the  Orderer1  only,  O  Lord   my  God,  I  sinned  in 
transgressing  the  commands  of  my  parents  and  those 
of  my  masters.    For  what  they,  with  whatever  motive 
would  have  me  learn,  I  might  afterward  have  put  to 
good  use ;  and  I  disobeyed,  not  from  a  better  choice, 
but  from  love  of  play,  loving  the  pride  of  victory  in 
my  contests,  and  to  have  my  ears  tickled  with  lying 
fables,  that  they  might  itch  the  more  ;  the  same  cu- 
riosity flashing  from  my  eyes  more  and  more,  for  the 
shows,  and  games  of  my  elders.     Yet  those  who  give 
these  shows  are  in  such  esteem,  that  almost  all  wish 
the  same  for  their  children,  and  yet  are  very  willing 
that  they  should  be  beaten,  if  those  very  games  de- 
tain  them   from  the    studies,  whereby  they  would 
have  them  attain  to  be  the  givers  of  them.     Look 
with  pity,  Lord,  on  these  things,  and  deliver  us  who 
call  upon  Thee  now ;  deliver  those  too  who  call  not 
on  Thee  yet,  that  they  may  call  on  Thee,  and  Thou 
mayest  deliver  them. 

XI.  17.  As  a  boy,  then,  I  had  already  heard  of  an 
eternal  life,  promised  us  through  the  humility  of  the 

i  Ordinator. 


Baptism  wronyly  deferred.  15 

Lord  our  God  stooping  to  our  pride  ;  and  even  from 
the  womb  of  my  mother,  who  greatly  hoped  in  Thee, 
I  was  sealed  with  the  mark  of  His  cross  and  salted 
with  His  salt.1  Thou  sawest,  Lord,  how  while  yet  a 
boy,  being  seized  on  a  time  with  sudden  oppression 
of  the  stomach,  and  like  near  to  death  —  Thou  saw- 
est, my  God  (for  Thou  wert  my  keeper),  with  what 
eagerness  and  what  faith  I  sought,  from  the  pious 
care  of  my  mother  and  Thy  Church,  the  mother 
of  us  all,  the  baptism  of  Thy  Christ  my  God  and 
Lord.  Whereupon  the  mother  of  my  flesh,  being 
much  troubled  (since,  with  a  heart  pure  in  Thy 
faith,  she  even  more  lovingly  travailed  in  birth2  of 
my  salvation),  would  in  eager  haste  have  provided 
for  my  consecration  and  cleansing  by  the  health-giv- 
ing sacraments,  confessing  Thee,  Lord  Jesus,  for  the 
remission  of  sins,  unless  I  had  suddenly  recovered. 
And  so,  as  if  I  must  needs  be  again  polluted  should 
I  live,  my  cleansing  was  deferred,  because  the  defile- 
ments of  sin  would,  after  that  washing,  bring  greater 
and  more  perilous  guilt.  I  then  already  believed : 
and  my  mother,  and  the  whole  household,  except  my 
father :  yet  did  not  he  prevail  over  the  power  of  my 
mother's  piety  in  me,  that  as  he  did  not  yet  believe, 
so  neither  should  I.  For  it  was  her  earnest  care, 
that  Thoii  my  God,  rather  than  he,  shouldst  be  my 
father ;  and  in  this  Thou  didst  aid  her  to  prevail  over 
her  husband,  whom  she,  although  she  was  the  better 

1  Salt  was  at  this  time  administered  at  baptism  as  emblematic,  and 
with  allusion  to  Mark  9:  49.     But  the  baptism  was  delayed.  —  ED. 

2  Gal.  iv.  19. 


1 G  Augustine  compelled  to  learn. 

of  the  two,  obeyed,  because  this  was  obeying  Thee, 
who  hast  so  commanded. 

18.  I  beseech  Thee,  my  God,  I  would  fain  know, 
if  so  Thou  wiliest,  for  what  purpose  my  baptism  was 
then  defei-red?  Was  it  for  my  good  that  the  rein  was 
laid  loose,  as  it  were,  upon  me,  for  me  to  sin?  or 
was  it  not  laid  loose  ?  If  not,  why  does  it  still  echo 
in  our  ears  on  all  sides,  "  Let  him  alone,  let  him  do 
as  he  will,  for  he  is  not  yet  baptized  ?  "  but  as  to  bodily 
health,  no  one  says,  "  Let  him  be  worse  wounded, 
for  he  is  not  yet  healed."  How  much  better,  then, 
had  I  been  at  once  healed ;  and  then,  by  my  friends' 
diligence  and  my  own,  my  soul's  recovered  health 
had  been  kept  safe  in  Thy  keeping  who  gavest  it. 
Better  truly.  But  how  many  and  great  waves  of 
temptation  seemed  to  hang  over  me  after  my  boy- 
hood !  These  my  mother  foresaw ;  and  preferred  to 
expose  to  them  the  clay  whence  I  might  afterwards 
be  moulded,  than  the  very  cast,  when  made. 

XII.  19.  In  boyhood  itself,  however  (so  much  less 
dreaded  for  me  than  youth),  I  loved  not  study,  and 
hated  to  be  forced  to  it.  Yet  I  was  forced  ;  and  this 
was  weU  done  towards  me,  but  I  did  not  well ;  for, 
unless  forced,  I  had  not  learnt.  But  no  one  doth 
well  against  his  will,  even  though  what  he  doth,  be 
well.  Yet  neither  did  they  well  who  forced  me,  but 
what  was  well  came  to  me  from  Thee,  my  God.  For 
they  were  regardless  how  I  should  employ  what  they 
forced  me  to  learn,  except  to  satiate  the  insatiate  de- 
sires of  a  wealthy  beggary,  and  a  shameful  glory. 
But  Thou,  by  whom  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are 


Augustine  compelled  to  learn.  17 

numbered,1  didst  use  for  my  good  the  error  of  all 
who  urged  me  to  learn;  and  my  own,  who  would 
not  leai-n,  Thou  didst  use  for  my  punishment  —  a  fit 
penalty  for  one,  so  small  a  boy  and  so  great  a  sinner. 
So  by  those  who  did  not  well,  Thou  didst  well  for 
me ;  and  by  my  own  sin  Thou  didst  justly  punish 
me.  For  Thou  hast  commanded,  and  so  it  is,  that 
every  inordinate  affection  should  be  its  own  punish- 
ment. 

XIII.  .20.  But  why  did  I  so  much  hate  the  Greek, 
which  I  studied  as  a  boy?  I  do  not  yet  fully  know. 
For  the  Latin  I  loved ;  not  what  my  first  masters, 
but  what  the  so-called  grammarians  taught  me.  For 
those  first  lessons,  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  I 
thought  as  great  a  burden  and  penalty  as  any  Greek. 
And  yet  whence  was  this  too,  but  from  the  sin  and 
vanity  of  this  life,  because  I  teas 'flesh,  and  a  breath 
that  passeth  away  and  cometh  not  again?2  For 
those  first  lessons  were  better  certainly,  because  more 
certain;  by  them  I  obtained,  and  still  retain,  the 
power  of  reading  what  I  find  written,  and  myself 
writing  what  I  will;  whereas  in  the  others,  I  was 
forced  to  learn  and  lay  up  the  wanderings  of  I  know 
not  what  ^Eneas,  while  I  forgot  my  own,  and  to  weep 
for  Dido  dead,  because  she  killed  herself  for  love ; 
the  while,  with  dry  eyes,  I  endured  my  miserable  self 
to  depart,  and  die  from  Thee,  O  my  God  and  my  life. 

21.  For  what  more  miserable  than  a  miserable  be- 
ing who  pities  not  himself;  but  weeps  the  death  of 
Dido  for  love  to  ^Eneas,  instead  of  weeping  his  own 

l  Matt.  x.  30.  2  pg.  Ixxviii.  39. 


1 8  Poetry  a  vanity  to  the  unregenerate. 

death  for  want  of  love  to  Thee,  O  God.  Thou  light 
of  my  heart,  Thou  bread  of  nay  inmost  soul,  Thou 
Power  who  givest  vigor  to  my  mind,  who  quicken- 
est  my  thoughts,  I  loved  Thee  not.  I  committed 
fornication  against  Thee,  and  all  around  me  also 
fornicating  echoed  "Well  done!  well  done!"  for 
the  friendship  of  this  world  is  fornication  against 
Thee  y1  and  "  "Well  done !  well  done  ! "  echoes  on  till 
one  is  ashamed  not  to  be  thus  a  man.  And  all  this 
I  wept  not,  I  who  wept  for  Dido  slain  and  "  seeking 
by  the  sword  a  stroke  and  wound  extreme,"  myself 
seeking  the  while  a  worse  extreme,  the  extremest 
and  lowest  of  Thy  creatures,  having  forsaken  Thee, 
earth  passing  into  the  earth.  And  if  forbid  to  read 
all  this,  I  was  grieved  that  I  might  not  read  what 
grieved  me.  Madness  like  this  is  thought  a  higher 
and  a  richer  learning,  than  that  by  which  I  learned 
to  read  and  write. 

22.  But  now,  my  God,  cry  Thou  aloud  in  my  soul, 
and  let  Thy  truth  tell  me, "  Not  so,  not  so.  Far  bet- 
ter was  that  first  study."  For,  lo,  I  would  readily 
forget  the  wanderings  of  ^Eneas  and  all  the  rest, 
rather  than  how  to  read  and  write.  But  over  the 
entrance  of  the  Grammar  School  is  a  veil  drawn. 
True.  Yet  is  this  not  so  much  an  emblem  of  aught 
recondite,  as  a  cloak  of  error.  Let  not  those,  whom 
I  no  longer  fear,  cry  out*  against  me,  while  I  confess 
to  Thee,  my  God,  whatever  my  soul  will,  and  ac- 
quiesce in  the  condemnation  of  my  evil  ways,  that  I 
may  love  thy  good  ways.  Let  not  either  buyers  or 

i  Jam.  iv.  4. 


Irksomcness  of  learning.  19 

sellers  of  grammar-learning  cry  out  against  me.  For 
if  I  question  them  whether  it  be  true,  that  JEneas 
came  on  a  time  to  Carthage,  as  the  Poet  tells,  the 
less  learned  will  reply  that  they  know  not,  the  more 
learned  that  he  never  did.  But  should  I  ask  with 
what  letters  the  name  "^Eneas"  is  written,  every  one 
who  has  learnt  this  will  answer  me  aright,  as  to  the 
signs  which  men  have  conventionally  settled.  If, 
again,  I  should  ask,  which  might  be  forgotten  with 
least  detriment  to  the  concerns  of  life,  reading  and 
writing  or  these  poetic  fictions  ?  who  does  not  fore- 
see, what  all  must  answer  who  have  not  wholly  for- 
gotten themselves  ?  I  sinned,  then,  when  as  a  boy 
I  preferred  those  empty  to  those  more  profitable 
studies,  or  rather  loved  the  one  and  hated  the  other. 
"  One  and  one,  two  ; "  "  two  and  two,  four ; "  this  was 
to  me  a  hateful  sing-song :  "  the  wooden  horse  lined 
with  armed  men"  and  "  the  burning  of  Troy," 1  and 
"  Creusa's  shade  and  sad  similitude,"  were  the  choice 
spectacle  of  my  vanity. 

XIV.  23.  Why  then  did  I  hate  the  Greek  classics, 
which  have  the  like  tales?  For  Homer  also  curi- 
ously wove  the  like  fictions,  and  is  most  sweetly-vain, 
yet  was  he  bitter  to  my  boyish  taste.  And  so  I  sup- 
pose would  Virgil  be  to  Grecian  children,  when 
forced  to  learn  him  as  I  was  Homer.  Difficulty,  in 
truth,  the  difficulty  of  a  foreign  tongue,  dashed,  as  it 
were,  with  gall  all  the  sweetness  of  Grecian  fable. 
For  not  one  word  of  it  did  I  understand,  and  to 
make  me  understand  I  was  urged  vehemently  with 


20  Evils  in  classical  study 

cruel  threats  and  punishments.  Time  was  also  (as 
an  infant),  I  knew  no  Latin ;  but  this  I  learned  with- 
out fear  or  suffering,  by  mere  observation,  amid  the 
caresses  of  my  nursery  and  jests  of  friends,  smiling 
and  sportively  encouraging  me.  This  I  learned 
without  any  pressure  of  punishment  to  urge  me  on, 
for  my  heart  urged  me  to  give  birth  to  its  concep- 
tions, which  I  could  only  do  by  learning  words  ;  but 
it  was  not  of  teachers,  but  of  those  who  talked  with 
me ;  in  whose  ears  also  I  gave  birth  to  the  thoughts 
which  I  conceived.  Hereby  it  appears  that  free 
curiosity  has  more  force  in  our  learning  of  tongues 
than  frightful  enforcement.  Only  this  enforcement 
restrains  the  rovings  of  that  freedom,  through  Thy 
laws,  O  my  God,  which  begin  with  the  master's 
ferule,  and  go  on  to  the  martyr's  torments,  temper- 
ing for  us  a  wholesome  bitter,  recalling  us  to  Thyself 
from  that  deadly  pleasure  which  lures  us  from  Thee. 
XV.  24.  Hear,  Lord,  my  prayer ;  let  not  my  soul 
faint  under  Thy  discipline,  nor  let  me  faint  in  con- 
fessing unto  Thee  all  Thy  mercies,  whereby  Thou 
hast  drawn  me  out  of  all  my  most  evil  ways,  that 
Thou  mightest  become  a  delight  to  me  above  all  the 
allurements  which  I  once  pursued  ;  that  I  may  most 
entirely  love  Thee,  and  clasp  Thy  hand  with  all  the 
roots  of  my  heart,  and  Thou  mayest  yet  rescue  me 
from  every  temptation,  even  unto  the  end.  For,  lo,  O 
Lord,  my  King  and  my  God,  for  Thy  service  be  what- 
ever useful  thing  my  childhood  learned ;  for  Thy  ser- 
vice, that  I  speak — write — read  —  reckon.  For  Thou 
didst  grant  me  Thy  discipline,  while  I  was  learning 


degrading  God  and  man.  21 

vanities ;  and  my  sin  of  delighting  in  those  vanities 
Thou  hast  forgiven.  In  them,  indeed,  I  learnt  many 
a  useful  word,  but  these  may  as  well  be  learned  in 
things  not  vain ;  and  that  is  the  safe  path  for  the 
steps  of  youth. 

XVI.  25.  But  woe  is  thee,  thou  torrent  of  human 
custom?  Who  shall  stand  against  thee?  How  long 
shalt  thou  not  be  dried  up  ?  How  long  shall  the  sons 
of  Eve  roll  and  toss  in  that  huge  and  hideous  sea, 
which  even  they  scarcely  overpass  who  are  shipped  in 
the  cross  ?  Did  not  I  read  in  thee  of  Jove  the  thun- 
derer  and  the  adulterer?  both,  doubtless,  he  could 
not  be ;  but  so  the  feigned  thunderer  might  counte- 
nance and  pander  the  real  adulterer.  And  now, 
which  of  our  gowned  masters  would  hear  one 1  who 
from  their  own  school  cries  out, "  These  were  Homer's 
fictions,  transferring  things  human  to  the  gods  ;  would 
he  had  brought  down  things  divine  to  us!"  Yet 
more  truly  had  he  said,  "  These  are  indeed  his  fic- 
tions ;  attributing  a  divine  nature  to  wicked  men, 
that  crimes  might  be  no  longer  crimes,  and  whoso 
commits  them  might  seem  to  imitate  not  abandoned 
men,  but  the  celestial  gods." 

26.  And  yet,  thou  hellish  torrent,  into  thee  are 
cast  the  sons  of  men  with  promise  of  rich  reward,  for 
compassing  such  learning ;  and  a  great  solemnity  is 
made  of  it,  when  this  is  going  on  in  the  forum,  within 
sight  of  laws  appointing  a  salary  beside  the  scholar's 
payments ;  and  thou  lashest  thy  rocks  and  roarest, 
"Hence  words  are  learnt;  hence  eloquence;  most 

1  Cicero  in  Tusc.  Qiuzst.,  I.  26.  —  ED. 


22  Evils  in  classical  study. 

necessary  to  gain  your  ends,  or  maintain  opinions." 
As  if  we  should  have  never  known  such  words  as 
"  golden  shower,"  "  lap,"  "  beguile,"  "  temples  of  the 
heavens,"  or  others  in  that  passage,  unless  Terence 
had  brought  a  lewd  youth  upon  the  stage,  setting  up 
Jupiter  as  his  example  of  seduction  : 

•  Viewing  a  picture,  where  the  tale  was  drawn, 
Of  Jove's  descending  in  a  golden  shower 
To  Danae's  lap,  a  woman  to  beguile. 

And  then  mark  how  he  excites  himself  to  lust  as  by 
celestial  authority : 

And  what  God?  Great  Jove, 

Who  shakes  heaven's  highest  temples  with  his  thunder: 
And  I,  poor  mortal  man,  not  do  the  same? 
I  did  it,  and  with  all  my  heart  I  did  it.  1 

Not  one  whit  more  easily  are  the  words  learnt  for 
all  this  vileness ;  but  by  their  means  the  vileness  is 
committed  with  less  shame.  Not  that  I  blame  the 
words,  being,  as  it  were,  choice  and  precious  vessels ; 
but  that  wine  of  error  which  is  drunk  to  us  in  them 
by  intoxicated  teachers ;  and  if  we,  too,  drink  not, 
we  are  beaten,  and  have  no  sober  judge  to  whom  we 
may  appeal.  Yet,  O  my  God  (in  whose  presence  I 
now  without  hurt  may  remember  this),  all  this  un- 
happy I  learnt  willingly  with  great  delight,  and  for 
this  was  pronounced  a  hopeful  boy. 

XVII.  27.  Bear  with  me,  my  God,  while  I  say 
somewhat  of  my  wit,  Thy  gift,  and  on  what  dotages 
I  wasted  it.  For  a  task  was  set  me,  troublesome 
enough  to  my  soul,  upon  terms  of  praise  or  shame, 

1  Terentii  EunueAus,  3,  5,  36  sq.  —  ED. 


Human  knoicledgc  preferred  to  divine.         23 

and  fear  of  stripes,  to  speak  the  words  of  Juno,  as 
she  raged  and  mourned  that  she  could  not 

This  Trojan  prince  from  Latium  turn. 

Which  words  I  had  heard  that  Juno  never  uttered ; 
but  we  were  forced  to  go  astray  in  the  footsteps  of 
these  poetic  fictions,  and  to  say  in  prose  what  the 
poet  had  expressed  in  verse.  And  his  speaking  was 
most  applauded,  in  whom  the  passions  of  rage  and 
grief  were  most  preeminent,  and  clothed  in  the  most 
fitting  language,  maintaining  the  dignity  of  the  char- 
acter. What  is  it  to  me,  O  my  true  life,  my  God, 
that  my  declamation  was  applauded  above  so  many 
of  my  own  age  and  class  ?  Was  not  all  this  smoke 
and  wind?  And  was  there  nothing  else  whereon  to 
exercise  my  wit  and  tongue?  Thy  praises,  Lord, 
Thy  praises  might  have  stayed  the  yet  tender  shoot 
of  my  heart  by  the  prop  of  Thy  Scriptures;  so  had  it 
not  trailed  away  amid  these  empty  trifles,  a  defiled 
prey  for  the  spirits  of  the  air.  For  in  more  ways 
than  one  do  men  sacrifice  to  the  rebellious  angels. 

XVIII.  28.  But  what  marvel  that  I  was  thus  car- 
ried away  to  vanities,  and  estranged  from  Thee,  O 
my  God,  when  men  were  set  before  me  as  models, 
who,  if  in  relating  some  action  of  theirs,  in  itself  not 
ill,  they  committed  some  barbarism  or  solecism,  were 
abashed ;  but  when  in  rich  and  adorned  and  well-or- 
dered discourse  they  related  their  own  disordered  life 
they  gloried?  These  things  Thou  seest,  Lord,  and 
holdest  Thy  peace;  long-suffering,  and  plenteous  in 
mercy  and  truth.1  Wilt  Thou  hold  Thy  peace  for- 

1  Ps.  Ixxxvi.  15. 


24        Human  knowledge  preferred  to  divine. 

ever?  Even  now  Thou  drawest  out  of  this  hor- 
rible gulf  the  soul  that  seeketh  Thee,  that  thirsteth 
for  Thy  pleasures,  whose  heart  saith  unto  Thee  I 
have  sought  Thy  face;  Thy  face,  Lord,  will  I  seek.1 
For  darkened*  affection  is  removal  from  Thee.  For 
it  is  not  by  our  feet,  or  change  of  place,  that  we 
leave  Thee,  or  return  unto  Thee.  Nor  did  that 
younger  son  of  Thine 3  look  out  for  horses  or  chari- 
ots, or  ships,  and  fly  with  visible  wings,  or  journey 
by  the  motion  of  his  limbs,  that  he  might  in  a  far 
country  waste  in  riotous  living  all  Thou  gavest  at 
his  departure.  A  loving  Father  Thou  wert  when 
Thou  gavest,  but  more  loving  unto  him  wert  Thou 
when  he  returned  empty.  Therefore  in  unclean, 
that  is,  in  darkened  affections,  is  the  true  distance 
from  Thy  face. 

29.  Behold,  O  Lord  God,  yea,  behold  patiently  as 
Thou  art  wont,  how  carefully  the  sons  of  men  ob- 
serve the  covenanted  rules  of  letters  and  syllables 
that  those  who  spake  before  them  used,  neglect- 
ing the  eternal  covenant  of  everlasting  salvation  re- 
ceived from  Thee.  Inasmuch,  that  a  teacher  or 
learner  of  the  hereditary  laws  of  pronunciation  will 
more  offend  men,  by  speaking  without  the  aspirate, 
of  a  "  uman  being,"  in  despite  of  the  laws  of  gram- 
mar, than  if  he,  a  "  human  being,"  hate  a  "  human 
being "  in  despite  of  Thee.  As  if  an  enemy  could 
be  more  hurtful  than  the  hatred  with  which  he  is  in- 
censed against  another;  or  could  wound  more  deeply 
him  whom  he  persecutes,  than  he  wounds  his  own 

1  Ts.  xxvii.  8.  2  Rom.  i.  21.  3  Luke  xv.  12  sq. 


Inconsistent  waywardness  of  his  childhood.     25 

soul  by  his  enmity.  Assuredly  no  science  of  letters 
can  be  so  innate  as  tbe  record  of  conscience,  "  that 
he  is  doing  to  another  what  from  another  he  would 
be  loath  to  suffer."  How  deep  are  Thy  ways,  O  God, 
Thou  only  great  that  sittest  silent  on  high  *  and  by 
an  unwearied  law  dispensing  penal  blindness  to  law- 
less desires.  In  quest  of  the  fame  of  eloquence,  a 
man  standing  before  a  human  judge,  surrounded  by 
a  human  throng,  declaiming  against  his  enemy  with 
fiercest  hatred,  will  take  heed  most  watchfully,  lest, 
by  an  error  of  the  tongue,  he  murder  the  word 
"  human  being ;"  but  takes  no  heed,  lest,  through  the 
malice  of  his  heart,  he  murder  the  real  human  being. 
30.  This  was  the  world  at  whose  gate  I  lay  while 
yet  a  boy ;  this  the  stage,  when  I  had  feared  more 
to  commit  a  barbarism,  than  having  committed  one, 
to  envy  those  who  had  not.  These  things  I  speak 
and  confess  to  Thee,  my  God  ;  for  which  I  had  praise 
from  them,  whom  I  then  thought  it  all  virtue  to 
please.  For  I  saw  not  the  abyss  of  vileness,  wherein 
I  was  cast  away  from  thine  eyes?  Before  Thine 
eyes  what  was  more  foul  than  I,  displeasing  even  to 
such  as  myself?  with  innumerable  lies  deceiving  my 
tutor,  my  masters,  my  parents,  out  of  love  of  play, 
eagerness  to  see  vain  shows  and  restlessness  to  imi- 
tate them !  Thefts  also  I  committed,  from  my  par- 
ents' cellar  and  table,  enslaved  by  greediness,  or  that 
I  might  have  to  give  to  boys,  who  sold  me  their 
games,  which  all  the  while  they  liked  no  less  than  I. 
In  play,  too,  I  often  sought  unfair  conquests,  being 

1  Is.  xxxiii  5.  2  Ps.  xxxi.  22. 


26  All  admirable  in  him,  but  his  sin. 

conquered  myself  by  vain  desire  of  preeminence. 
And  what  could  I  so  impatiently  endure,  or,  when 
I  detected  it,  upbraid  so  fiercely,  as  that  which  I 
was  doing  to  others;  and  yet  when  I  was  detected 
and  upbraided,  I  chose  rather  to  quarrel  than  to 
yield.  And  is  this  the  innocence  prone  to  boyhood  ? 
Not  so,  Lord,  not  so ;  I  cry  thy  mercy,  O  my  God. 
For  these  very  sins,  as  riper  years  succeed,  these  very 
sins  are  transferred  from  tutors  and  masters,  from 
nuts  and  balls  and  sparrows,  to  magistrates  and  kings, 
to  gold  and  manors  and  slaves,  just  as  severer  pun- 
ishments displace  the  ferule.  It  was  the  low  stature 
then  of  childhood,  which  Thou  our  King  didst  corn- 
mend  as  an  emblem  of  lowliness,  when  Thou  saidst, 
Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven?- 

31.  Yet,  Lord,  to  Thee,  the  Creator  and  Governor 
of  the  universe,  most  excellent  and  most  good,  thanks 
were  due  to  Thee  our  God,  even  hadst  Thou  des- 
tined for  me  boyhood  only.  For  even  then  I  was,  I 
lived,  and  felt;  and  had  an  implanted  providence 
over  my  own  individual  welfare,2  which  is  a  kind  of 
miniature  of  that  mysterious  Unity  of  Thine,  whence 
I  am  derived.  By  an  inward  instinct,  I  preserved 
the  integrity  of  my  senses,  and  in  these  minute  pur- 
suits, and  in  my  thoughts  on  things  minute,  I  learnt 
to  delight  in  truth.  I  hated  to  be  deceived ;  I  had 
a  vigorous  memory,  was  gifted  with  speech,  was  re- 
galed by  friendship,  avoided  pain  of  body,  baseness 
of  mind,  ignorance.  In  so  small  a  creature,  what  was 
not  wonderful,  admirable  ?  But  all  were  gifts  of  my 

1  Matt.  xix.  14.        2  Meamque  incolumitatem  ....  cure  habcbam- 


All  admirable  in  him,  but  his  sin.  27 

God ;  it  was  not  I,  who  gave  them  me ;  and  good 
these  are,  and  these  together  are  myself.  Good,  then, 
is  He  that  made  me,  and  He  is  my  good ;  and  before 
Him  will  I  exult  for  every  good  which  as  a  boy  I 
had.  But  herein  I  sin,  that  not  in  Him,  but  in  His 
creatures  —  myself  and  others  —  I  sought  for  pleas- 
ures, sublimities,  truths,  and  so  fell  headlong  into 
sorrows,  confusions,  errors.  Thanks  be  to  Thee, 
my  joy  and  my  glory  and  my  confidence,  my  God, 
thanks  be  to  Thee  for  Thy  gifts;  but  do  Thou  pre- 
serve them  to  me.  For  so  wilt  Thou  preserve  me, 
and  those  things  shall  be  enlarged  and  perfected, 
which  thou  hast  given  me,  and  I  myself  shall  be  with 
Thee,  since  Thou  hast  given  me  my  being. 


THE  SECOND  BOOK. 

OBJECT  OP  THESE  CONFESSIONS  —  FtTRTHER  ILLS  OP  IDLENESS  DEVEL- 
OPED IN  HIS  SIXTEENTH  YEAR  — EVILS  OF  ILL  SOCIETY.  WHICH 
BETKAYED  HIM  INTO  THEFT. 

I.  1.  I  will  now  call   to  mind  my  past  foulness, 
and  the  carnal  corruptions  of  my  soul ;  not  because 
I  love  them,  but  that  I  may  love  Thee,  O  my  God. 
For  love  of  Thy  love  I  do  it ;  reviewing  my  most 
wicked  ways  in  the  very  bitterness  of  my  remem- 
brance, that  Thou   mayest  grow   sweet .  unto   me : 
O  Thou  sweetness  never  failing,  Thou  blissful  and 
assured  sweetness,   gathering  me  again  out  of  that 
dissipation   wherein    I   was   torn   piecemeal,   being 
turned  from  Thee,  the  One  Good,  and  lost  among  a 
multiplicity  of  things.     For  in  my  youth  I  burned 
to  be  satiated,  and  dared  to  grow  rank  and  wild  with 
various  and   shadowy  loves:   my  beauty  consumed 
away,  and  I  went  rotting  in  Thine  eyes ;  pleasing 
myself,  and  desirous  to  please  the  eyes  of  men. 

II.  2.  And  what  was  it  that  I  delighted  in  but  to 
love,  and  be  beloved?  but  I  kept  not  the  measure 
of  love,  of  mind  to  mind,  friendship's  bright  boundary; 
but  out  of  the  muddy  concupiscence  of  the  flesh,  and 
the  bubblings  of  youth,  mists  fumed  up  which  be- 
clouded and  overcast  my  heart,  that  I  could  not  dis- 
cern the  clear  brightness  of  love,  from  the  fog  of 


Object  of  these  confessions.  21) 

lustfulncss.  Both  did  confusedly  boil  in  me,  and 
hurried  my  unstayed  youth  over  the  precipice  of 
unholy  desires,  and  sunk  me  in  a  gulf  of  flagitious- 
ness.  Thy  wrath  had  gathered  over  me,  and  I  knew 
it  not.  I  was  grown  deaf  by  the  clanking  of  the 
chain  of  my  mortality,  the  punishment  of  the  pride 
of  my  soul,  and  I  strayed  further  from  Thee,  and 
Thou  lettest  me  alone,  and  I  was  tossed  about,  and 
wasted,  and  dissipated,  and  I  boiled  over  in  my  for- 
nications, and  Thou  heldest  Thy  peace,  O  Thou  my 
tardy  joy!  Thou  then  heldest  Thy  peace,  and  I 
wandered  further  and  further  from  Thee,  into  more 
and  more  fruitless  seed-plots  of  sorrow,  with  a  proud 
dejectcdness,  and  a  restless  weariness. 

3.  Oh !  that  some  one  had  then  attempered  my  dis- 
order, and  turned  to  account  the  fleeting  beauties  of 
these  the  extreme  points  of  Thy  creation !  had  put 
a  bound  to  their  pleasurableness,  so  that  the  tides  of 
my  youth  might  have  cast  themselves  upon  the  mar- 
riage shore,  if  they  could  not  be  calmed,  and  kept 
within  the  object  of  a  family,  as  Thy  law  prescribes, 
O  Lord  :  who  this  way  formest  the  offspring  of  this 
our  death,  being  able  with  a  gentle  hand  to  blunt  the 
thorns,  which  were  excluded  from  Thy  paradise? 
For  Thy  omnipotency  is  not  far  from  us,  even  when 
we  be  far  from  Thee.  Else  ought  I  more  watchfully 
to  have  heeded  the  voice  from  the  clouds :  Neverthe- 
less such  shall  have  trouble  in  the  flesh,  but  I  s^Kire 
you.1  And  it  is  good  for  a  man  not  to  touch  a  wo- 
man? And  he  that  is  unmarried  thinketh  of  the 

l  1  Cor.  vii.  28.  21  Cor.  vii.  1. 


30    Marts  neylect  of  youth,  and  God's  care  of  it. 

things  of  the  Lord,  how  he  may  please  the  Lord;  but 
he  that  is  married  careth  for  the  things  of  this  world, 
how  he  may  please  his  icife.1 

4.  To  these  words  had  I  listened  more  attentively, 
I  had  more  happily  awaited  Thy  embraces ;  but  I, 
poor  wretch,  foamed  like  a  troubled  sea,  following 
the  rushing  of  my  own  tide,  forsaking  Thee,  and 
transgressing  all  Thy  limitations ;  yet  I  escaped  not 
Thy  scourges.  For  what  mortal  can?  For  Thou 
wert  ever  with  me  mercifully  cruel,  besprinkling 
with  most  bitter  disgust  all  my  unlawful  pleasures : 
that  I  might  seek  pleasures  without  alloy.  But 
where  to  find  such  I  could  not  discover,  save  in 
Thee,  O  Lord,  who  teachest  by  sorrcnc,  and  wo.undest 
us,  to  heal ;  and  killest  us,  lest  we  die  from  Thee.2 
Where  was  I,  and  how  far  went  I  exiled  from  the 
delicacies  of  Thy  house,  in  that  sixteenth  year  of  the 
age  of  my  flesh,  when  the  madness  of  lust  took  the 
rule  over  me,  and  I  resigned  myself  wholly  to  it? 
My  friends  meanwhile  took  no  care  by  marriage  to 
save  my  fall ;  their  only  care  was  that  I  should  learn 
to  speak  excellently,  and  be  a  persuasive  orator. 

III.  5.  For  that  year  were  my  studies  intermitted : 
whilst,  after  my  return  from  Madaura  (a  neighboring 
city,  whither  I  had  journeyed  to  learn  grammar  and 
rhetoric),  the  expenses  for  a  further  journey  to  Car- 
thage were  being  provided  for  me  ;  and  that,  rather 
by  the  resolution  than  the  means  of  my  father,  who 
was  but  a  poor  freeman  of  Tageste.  To  whom  tell 
I  this?  not  to  Thee,  my  God ;  but  before  Thee  to 

1 1  Cor.  vii.  32,  33.  2  Deut  xxxii  39. 


Effects  of  idleness  —  his  mother's  fears  for  him.  31 

mine  own  kind,  even  to  such  small  portion  of  man- 
kind as  may  light  upon  these  writings  of  mine.  And 
to  what  purpose  ?  that  whosoever  reads  this,  may 
think  out  of  what  depths  we  are  to  cry  unto  Thee.1 
For  what  is  nearer  to  Thine  ears  than  a  confessing 
heart,  and  a  life  of  faith?  Who  did  not  extol  my 
father,  that  beyond  the  ability  of  his  means,  he  would 
furnish  his  son  with  all  necessaries  for  a  far  journey 
for  his  studies'  sake  ?  Many  far  abler  citizens  did 
no  such  thing  for  their  children.  But  yet  this  same 
father  had  no  concern  how  I  grew  towards  Thee,  or 
how  chaste  I  were ;  nor,  were  I  but  copious  in  speech, 
how  barren  in  Thy  culture,  O  God,  was  the  field  of 
my  heart. 

6.  But  while  in  that  my  sixteenth  year  I  lived  with 
my  parents,  leaving  school  for  a  while  (a  season 
of  idleness  being  interposed,  through  the  narrowness 
of  my  parents'  fortunes),  the  briers  of  unclean  desire 
grew  rank  over  my  head,  and  there  was  no  hand  to 
root  them  out.  When  my  father  saw  me  at  the 
baths,  now  growing  toward  manhood,  and  endued 
with  a  restless  youthfulness,  as  if  anticipating  his 
descendants,  he  gladly  told  it  to  my  mother;  rejoic- 
ing in  that  tumult  of  the  senses  wherein  the 
world  forgetteth  Thee,  its  Creator,  and  bccometh 
enamoured  of  Thy  creature,  instead  of  Thyself, 
through  the  fumes  of  the  invisible  wine  of  its  self- 
will,  turning  aside  and  bowing  down  to  the  very 
basest  things.  But  in  my  mother's  breast  Thou 
hadst  already  Thy  temple,  and  the  foundation  of 

1  Ps  cxxx.  1. 


32         God  spaJie  to  him  through  his  motJier. 

Thy  holy  habitation,  whereas  my  father  was  as  yet 
but  a  catechumen,  and  that  but  recently.  She  then 
was  startled  with  an  holy  fear  and  trembling ;  and 
though  I  was  not  as  yet  baptized,  feared  for  me  those 
crooked  ways,  in  which  they  walk,  who  turn  their 
back  to  Thee,  and  not  their  face.1 

7  Woe  is  me !  and  dare  I  say  that  Thou  heldest 
Thy  peace,  O  my  God,  while  I  wandered  further 
from  Thee?  Didst  Thou  then  indeed  hold  Thy 
peace  to  me?  And  whose  but  thine  were  those 
words  which  by  my  mother,  Thy  faithful  one,  Thou 
sahgest  in  my  ears?  But  it  entered  not  into  my 
heart  to  do  as  she  desired.  For  she  wished,  and  I 
remember  in  private  with  great  anxiety  warned  me, 
"not  to  commit  fornication;  but  especially  never  to 
defile  another  man's  wife."  These  seemed  to  me  old 
wives'  counsels,  which  I  should  blush  to  obey.  But 
they  were  Thine,  and  I  knew  it  not ;  and  I  thought 
Thou  wert  silent,  and  that  it  was  she  who  spake ;  by 
whom  Thou  wert  not  silent  unto  me:  and  in  her 
person  wast  Thou  despised  by  me,  her  son,  t/ie  son  of 
Thy  handmaid,  Thy  servant.2  But  I  knew  it  not 
then ;  and  I  ran  headlong  with  such  blindness,  that 
amongst  my  equals  I  was  ashamed  to  be  less  vicious, 
when  I  heard  them  boast  of  their  wickedness ;  yei, 
and  the  more  boast,  the  more  they  were  degraded >; 
and  I  took  pleasure,  not  only  in  the  pleasure  of  the 
deed,  but  in  the  praise.  What  is  worthy  of  blame 
but  Vice  ?  But  I  made  myself  worse  than  I  was, 
that  I  might  not  be  dispraised ;  and  when  in  any- 

1  Jer.  ii.  27.  2  Ps.  cxvi.  1C. 


God  spake  to  him  through  his  mother.        33 

tiling  I  had  not  sinned  like  the  abandoned  ones,  I 
would  say  that  I  had  done  what  I  had  not  done, 
that  I  might  not  seem  contemptible  in  proportion  as 
I  was  innocent :  or  of  less  account,  the  more  chaste. 
8.  Behold  with  what  companions  I  walked  the 
streets  of  Babylon,  and  wallowed  in  the  mire  thereof, 
as  if  in  a  bed  of  spices  and  precious  ointments.  And 
that  I  might  be  knit  the  more  firmly  to  the  very  root 
of  sin,  the  invisible  enemy  trod  me  down,  and  se- 
duced me,  for  I  was  then  made  fit  matter  for  him 
to  work  upon.  Neither  did  the  mother  of  my  flesh 
(who  had  now  fled  out  of  the  centre  of  Babylon? 
yet  went  more  slowly  in  the  skirts  thereof),  al- 
though she  advised  me  to  chastity,  so  heed  what 
she  had  heard  of  me  from  her  husband,  as  to  re- 
strain within  the  bounds  of  conjugal  affection  (if  it 
could  not  be  pared  away  to  the  quick),  what  she  felt 
to  be  pestilent  at  present,  and  for  the  future  danger- 
ous. She  heeded  not  this,  lest  a  wife  should  prove  a 
clog  and  hindrance  to  my  hopes.  Not  those  hopes 
of  the  world  to  corne,  which  my  mother  reposed  in 
Thee ;  but  the  hope  of  learning,  which  both  my 
parents  were  too  desirous  I  should  attain ;  my  father, 
because  he  had  next  to  no  thought  of  Thee,  and  'of 
me  but  vain  conceits ;  my  mother,  because  she  ac- 
counted that  those  usual  courses  of  learning  would 
not  only  be  no  hindrance,  but  even  some  further- 
ance towards  attaining  Thee.  Thus  I  conjecture,  re- 
calling, as  well  as  I  may,  the  disposition  of  my  pa- 
rents. The  reins,  meantime,  were  slackened  to  me, 

l  Jer.  li.  6. 


34  Theft  for  the  pleasure  of  thieving. 

beyond  all  reason,  to  spend  my  time  in  sport,  yea, 
giving  too  large  a  scope  to  ray  affections.  And  in 
all  was  a  mist,  intercepting  from  me,  O  my  God,  the 
brightness  of  Thy  truth;  and  mine  iniquity  burst 
out  as  from  very  fatness^ 

IV.  9.  Theft  is  punished  by  Thy  Law,  0  Lord, 
and  the  law  written  in  the  hearts  of  men,  which 
iniquity  itself  cannot  blot  out.  For  what  thief  will 
endure  a  thief?  not  even  a  rich  thief  will  endure  one 
who  steals  through  want.  Yet  I  lusted  to  thieve,  and 
did  it,  compelled  by  no  hunger,  nor  poverty,  but 
through  a  disgust  at  well-doing,  and  a  pampered- 
ness  of  iniquity.  For  I  stole  that  of  which  I  had 
enough  and  much  better.  Nor  cared  I  to  enjoy  what  I 
stole,  but  joyed  in  the  theft  and  sin  itself.  A  pear  tree 
there  was  near  our  vineyard,  laden  with  fruit,  tempt- 
ing neither  for  color  nor  taste.  To  shake  and  rob 
this,  some  lewd  young  fellows  of  us  went,  late  one 
night  (having,  according  to  our  pestilent  custom,  pro- 
longed our  sports  in  the  streets  till  then),  and  took 
huge  loads,  not  for  our  eating,  but  to  fling  to  the 
very  hogs,  having  only  tasted  them.  And  this  we 
did  only  because  we  would  do  that  which  was  not 
lawful.3  Behold  my  heart,  O  God,  behold  my  heart, 
which  Thou  hadst  pity  upon  in  the  bottom  of  the 
bottomless  pit.  Now,  behold  let  my  heart  tell  Thee 
what  it  sought  when  I  would  be  gratuitously  evil, 
having  no  temptation  to  ill,  but  the  ill  itself.  It  was 
foul,  and  I  loved  it ;  I  loved  to  perish,  I  loved  my 

1  Ps  Ixxiii.  7. 

2  Baxter  in  his  autobiography  makes  a  confession  almost  identical 
with  this  one.    See  Book  I   It.  i.  —  ED. 


All  sin  proposes  some  end.        .  35 

own  fault ;  not  that  for  which  I  was  faulty,  but  my 
fault  itself.  Foul  soul,  falling  from  Thy  firmament 
to  utter  destruction  ;  not  seeking  aught  through  the 
shame,  but  the  shame  itself! 

tV.  10.  For  there  is  an  attractiveness  in  beautiful 
bodies,  in  gold  and  silver,  and  all  things;  and  in 
bodily  touch  sympathy  has  much  influence,  and 
each  other  sense  hath  his  proper  object  answerably 
tempered.  Worldly  honor  hath  also  its  grace,  and 
the  power  of  overcoming,  and  of  mastery;  whence 
springs  also  the  thirst  of  revenge.  But  yet,  to  obtain 
all  these,  we  may  not  depart  from  Thee,  O  Lord,  nor 
decline  from  Thy  law.  The  life  also  whereby  we 
live  hath  its  own  enchantment,  through  a  certain 
proportion  of  its  own,  and  a  correspondence  with  all 
things  beautiful  here  below.  Human  friendship  also 
is  endeared  with  a  sweet  tie,  by  reason  of  the  unity 
formed  of  many  souls.  Upon  occasion  of  all  these, 
and  the  like,  is  sin  committed,  while  through  an  im- 
moderate 'inclination  towards  these  goods  of  the 
lowest  order,  the  better  and  higher  are  forsaken,  — 
Thyself,  our  Lord  God,  Thy  truth,  and  Thy  law. 
For  these  lower  things  have  their  delights,  but  they 
are  not  like  my  God,  who  made  all  things ;  for  in 
Him  doth  the  righteous  delight,  and  He  is  the  joy 
of  the  upright  in  heart.1 

11.  When,  therefore,  inquiry  is  made  why  any 
wickedness  was  done,  it  is  usually  conceived  to  have 
proceeded  either  from  the  desire  of  obtaining  some 
of  those  things  which  we  called  lower  goods,  or 

1  I's.  Ixiv.  10. 


36  All  sin  proposes  some  end,  and 

from  a  fear  of  losing  them.  For  they  are  beautiful 
and  comely;  although,  compared  with  higher  and 
beatific  goods,  they  be  abject  and  low.  A  man  hath 
murdered  another;  why?  he  loved  his  wife  or  his 
estate;  or  would  rob  for  his  own  livelihood;  or 
feared  to  lose  something  by  him ;  or  was  on  fire  to 
be  revenged.  Would  any  commit  murder  only  for 
the  delight  he  takes  in  murdering  ?  Who  would  be- 
lieve it  ?  For  as  for  that  furious  and  savage  man,  of 
whom  it  is  said  that  he  was  gratuitously  evil  and 
cruel,  yet  is  the  cause  assigned;  "lest,"  saith  he, 
"  through  idleness  hand  or  heart  should  grow  inac- 

O  O 

tive." *  And  to  what  end  ?  that,  through  that  prac- 
tice of  guilt,  he  might,  when  once  he  had  taken  the 
city,  attain  to  honor,  empire,  riches,  and  be  freed 
from  fear  of  the  laws,  which  he  feared  through  the 
conscience  of  his  own  villany,  and  from  the  possi- 
bility of  want.  So  not  even  Catiline  himself  loved 
his  own  villanies,  but  something  else,  to  obtain  which 
he  would  be  wicked. 

VI.  12.  What  then  did  wretched  I  so  love  in 
thee,  thou  theft  of  mine,  thou  deed  of  darkness,  in 
that  sixteenth  year  of  my  age  ?  Lovely  thou  wcrt 
not,  because  thou  wort  theft.  But  art  thou  any 
thing,  that  thus  I  speak  to  thee?  Fair  were  the 
pears  we  stole,  because  they  were  Thy  creation, 
Thou  fairest  of  all,  Creator  of  all,  Thou  good  God ; 
God,  the  sovereign  good  and  my  true  good.  Fail- 
were  those  pears,  but  not  them  did  my  wretched 
soul  desire;  for  I  had  store  of  better,  and  I  gath« 

1  Sallustii  Catilina,  Id  —  ED. 


imitates  pervertedly  some  excellence  of  God.    37 

ercd  those  only  that  I  might  steal.  For,  when  gath- 
ered, I  flung  them  away,  my  only  feast  therein  being 
my  own  sin,  which  I  was  pleased  to  enjoy.  For  if 
aught  of  those  pears  came  within  my  mouth,  what 
sweetened  it  was  the  sin.  And  now,  O  Lord  my 
God,  I  enquire  what  in  that  theft  delighted  me ;  and 
behold  it  hath  no  loveliness ;  I  mean  not  such  loveli- 
ness as  in  justice  and  wisdom ;  nor  such  as  is  in  the 
mind  and  memory,  and  senses,  and  animal  life  of 
man ;  nor  yet  as  the  stars  are  glorious  and  beautiful 
in  their  orbs;  or  the  earth,  or  sea,  full  of  embryo 
life,  replacing  by  its  birth  that  which  decayeth ;  nay 
nor  even  that  false  and  shadowy  beauty,  which  be- 
longeth  to  deceiving  vices. 

-13.  For  so  doth  pride  imitate  exaltedness ;  whereas 
Thou  alone  art  God  exalted  over  all.  Ambition, 
what  seeks  it,  but  honors  and  glory  ?  whereas  Thou 
alone  art  to  be  honored  above  all,  and  glorious  for 
evermore.  The  cruelty  of  the  great  would  fain  be 
feared ;  but  who  is  to  be  feared  but  God  alone,  out 
of  whose  power  what  can  be  wrested  or  withdrawn  ? 
when,  or  where,  or  whither,  or  by  whom  ?  The  ten- 
derness of  the  wanton  would  fain  be  counted  love : 
yet  is  nothing  more  tender  than  Thy  charity ;  nor  is 
aught  loved  more  healthfully  than  that  Thy  truth, 
bright  and  beautiful  above  all.  Curiosity  makes 
semblance  of  a  desire  of  knowledge ;  whereas  Thou 
supremely  knowest  all.  Yea,  ignorance  and  foolish- 
ness itseif  is  cloaked  under  the  name  of  simplicity 
and  harrnlessness  ;  yet  nothing  is  found  more  single 
than  Thee:  and  what  less  injurious,  since  they  are 


38     Men  seek  the  creature  instead  of  the  Creator. 

his  own  works,  which  injure  the  sinner  ?  Yes,  sloth 
would  fain  be  at  rest;  but  what  stable  rest  be- 
sides the  Lord  ?  Luxury  affects  to  be  called  plenty 
and  abundance ;  but  Thou  art  the  fulness  and  nev- 
er-failing plenteousness  of  incorruptible  pleasures. 
Prodigality  presents  a  show  of  liberality :  but  Thou 
art  the  most  overflowing  Giver  of  all  good.  Cov- 
etousness  would  possess  many  things ;  and  Thou 
possessest  all  things.  Envy  wrangles  for  precedence; 
but  what  can  contend  with  Thee?  Anger  seeks 
revenge  ;  and  who  revenges  justly  but  Thou  ?  Fear 
startles  at  things  unwonted  or  sudden,  which  endan- 
ger things  beloved,  and  takes  forethought  for  their 
safety ;  but  to  Thee  what  is  unwonted  or  sudden,  or 
who  can  separate  from  Thee  what  Thou  lovest?1  Or 
where  but  with  Thee  is  safety  ?  Grief  pines  away 
for  the  lost  delight  of  its  desires ;  and  wishes  that  it 
might  not  be  deprived  of  any  thing,  more  than  Thou 
canst  be. 

14.  Thus  doth  the  soul  commit  fornication,  when 
she  turns  from  Thee,  seeking  otherwhere  than  in 
Thee,  what  she  findeth  not  pure  and  untainted  till 
she  returns  to  Thee.  Thus  perversely  all  imitate 
Thee,  who  remove  far  from  Thee,  and  lift  themselves 
up  against  Thee.  But  even  by  thus  imitating  Thee, 
they  imply  Thee  to  be  the  Creator  of  all  nature ; 
and  that  there  is  no  place  whither  they  can  retire 
from  Thee.  What  then  did  I  love  in  that  theft? 
and  wherein  did  I  even  corruptly  and  perversely 
imitate  iny  Lord  ?  Did  I  wish,  by  a  kind  of  sleight, 


Through  God  alone  are  men  kept  from,  sin.    39 

to  do  contrary  to  Thy  law,  because  I  could  not  by 
strong  hand ;  that  whilst  I  was  no  better  than  a 
bond  slave,  I  might  counterfeit  a  false  liberty,  by 
doing  without  punishment  what  I  could  not  do  with- 
out sin,  in  a  darkened  likeness  of  Thy  Omnipotency  ? 
VII.  15.  Behold  this  slave,  fleeing  from  his  Lord, 
and  laying  hold  of  a  shadow.1  O  rottenness!  O 
monstrousness  of  life,  and  depth  of  death  !  did  I  like 
what  I  ought  not,  only  because  I  ought  not  ?  What 
shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord?  that,  whilst  my  mem- 
ory ^recalls  these  things,  my  soul  is  not  affrighted 
at  them?  Make  me  to  love  Thee,  0  Lord,  and 
thank  Thee,  and  confess  unto  Thy  name;  because 
Thou  hast  forgiven  me  these  great  and  heinous 
deeds  of  mine,  and  hast  melted  away  my  sins  as 
they  were  ice.  To  Thy  grace  I  ascribe  also  what- 
soever sins  I  have  not  committed  ;  for  what  might  I 
not  have  done,  who  even  loved  a  sin  for  its  own 
sake  ?  Yea,  I  confess  all  to  have  been  forgiven  me  ; 
both  what  evils  I  committed  by  my  own  wilfulness, 
and  what  by  Thy  help  I  committed  not.  What  man 
is  he,  who,  weighing  his  own  infirmity,  dares  to  as- 
cribe his  chastity  and  innocency  to  his  own  strength ; 
that  so  he  should  love  Thee  the  less,  as  if  he  less 
needed  Thy  mercy,  whereby  Thou  remittest  sins  to 
those  that  turn  to  Thee  ?  For  whosoever,  called  by 
Thee,  followed  Thy  voice,  and  avoided  those  things 
which  he  finds  me  recalling  and  confessing  of  my- 
self, let  him  not  laugh  at  me,  who,  being  sick, 
was  cured  by  that  Physician,  through  whose' aid  it 

i  Jonah  i.  4.  2  Ps.  cxvi.  12. 


40 


was  that  lie  is  not  sick  at  all,  or  rather  is  less  sick ; 
but  let  him  love  Thee  as  much  as  I  do,  yea,  and 
more;  since  he  sees  me  to  have  been  recovered  from 
such  deep  consumption  of  sin,  by  Him  who  pre- 
served him  from  the  like  consumption  of  sin. 

VIII.  1 6.  And  what  fruit  had  I  even  from  those 
things,   of  the    remembrance  whereof   I  am  now 
ashamed? l    Especially  from  that  theft  which  I  loved' 
for  the  theft's  sake;  it  was  nothing,  and  therefore 
the  more  miserable  was  I,  who  loved  it.    Alone,  I 
had  not  done  it :  such  as  I  was  then,  I  remember, 
alone  I  had  never  done  it.     I  loved  it  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  accomplices,  with  whom  I  did  it.    Did 
I  then  love  something  else  besides  the  theft?    Nay  I 
did  love  nothing  else ;  for  that  circumstance  of  the 
company  was  also  nothing.     Who  can  teach  me  the 
truth,  save  He  that  enlighteneth  my  heart,  and  dis- 
covereth  its  dark  corners?     What  is  this  which  I 
take  in  hand  to  inquire,  and  discuss,  and  consider  ? 
For  had  I  loved  the  pears  I  stole,  and  wished  to 
enjoy  them,  I  might  have   done  it  alone,  had  the 
bare  commission  of  the  theft  sufficed  to  secure  my 
pleasure  ;  nor  needed  I  have  inflamed  the  itching  of 
my  desires,  by  the  excitement  of  accomplices.     But 
since  my  pleasure  was  not  in  those  pears,  it  was  in 
the  offence  itself,  to  which  the  company  of  fellow- 
sinners  did  concur. 

IX.  1 7.  What,  then,  was  this  feeling  ?    Of  a  truth 
it  was  foul :  and  woe  was  me,  who  had  it ;  but  yet 
what  was  it  ?      Who  can  understand  his  errors  ? 2   It 

l  Rom  vi.  21.  2  Ps.  xix.  12. 


to  bear  ill  society.  41 

was  the  sport,  which,  as  it  were,  tickled  our  hearts, 
in  that  we  deceived  those  who  little  thought  what 
we  were  doing,  and  would  have  disliked  it.  Why 
then  was  my  delight  of  such  sort,  that  I  did  it  not 
alone  ?  Because  none  doth  ordinarily  laugh  alone  ? 
ordinarily  no  one ;  yet  laughter  sometimes  masters 
men  alone  and  singly  when  no  one  whatever  is  with 
them,  if  anything  very  ludicrous  presents  itself  to 
their  senses  or  mind.  But  I  had  not  done  this 
alone ;  alone,  I  had  never,  never  done  it.  Behold, 
my  God,  before  Thee,  the  vivid  remembrance  of  my 
soul ;  alone,  I  had  never  committed  that  theft ;  for 
what  I  stole  pleased  me  not.  O  friendship,  thou  art 
too  unfriendly !  thou  incomprehensible  seducer  of 
the  soul ;  out  of  mirth  and  wantonness  grow  desire 
to  do  others  hurt,  without  lust  of  our  own  gain  or 
revenge  :  but  when  it  is  said,  "  Let 's  go,  let 's  do  it," 
we  are  ashamed  not  to  be  shameless. 

X.  18.  Who  can  disentangle  that  twisted  and  in- 
tricate knottiness  of  my  soul  ?  Foul  is  it :  I  hate  to 
think  on  it,  to  look  on  it.  But  Thee  I  long  for,  O 
Righteousness  and  Innocency,  beautiful  and  comely 
to  all  pure  eyes,  and  of  a  satisfaction  unsating. 
With  Thee  is  rest  entire,  and  life  imperturbable.  He 
that  enters  into  Thee,  enters  into  the  joy  of  his 
Lord;*  and  shall  not  fear,  and  shall  do  excellently  in 
the  All-Excellent.  I  sank  away  from  Thee,  and  I 
wandered,  O  my  God,  too  much  astray  from  Thee 
my  stay,  in  these  days  of  my  youth,  and  I  became  to 
myself  a  barren  land. 

1  Matt.  xxv.  21. 


THE  THIRD  BOOK. 

HIS  RESIDENCE  AT  CARTHAGE  PROM  HIS  SEVENTEENTH  TO  HIS  NINE- 
TEENTH YEAR  —  SOURCE  OF  HIS  DISORDERS  —  LOVE  Of  SHOWS  — 
ADVANCE  IN  STUDIES,  AND  LOVE  OP  WISDOM  —  DISTASTE  FOR  SCRIP- 
TURE—  LED  ASTRA  if  TO  THE  MANICH^BANS  —  REPUTATION  OP  8OMB 
OP  THEIR  TENETS — GRIEF  OP  HIS  MOTHER  MONICA  AT  HIS  HERESY, 
AND  PRAYERS  FOR  HIS  CONVERSION  —  HER  VISION  PROM  GOD,  AND 
ANSWER  THROUGH  A  BISHOP. 

I.  1.  To  Carthage  I  came,  where  there  sang  all 
around  me  in  my  ears  a  cauldron  of  unholy  loves. 
I  loved  not  truly,  as  yet,  yet  I  loved  to  love,  and  out 
of  a  deep-seated  craving,  I  hated  myself  for  not  crav- 
ing. I  sought  what  I  might  love,  in  love  with  loving, 
and  safety  I  hated,  and  a  way  without  snares.  For 
within  me  was  a  famine  of  that  inward  food,  Thyself, 
my  God ;  yet,  through  that  famine  I  was  not  hun- 
gered ;  but  was  without  all  longing  for  incorruptible 
sustenance,  not  because  filled  therewith,  but  the  more 
empty,  the  more  I  loathed  it.  For  this  cause  my 
soul  was  sickly  and  full  of  sores,  it  miserably  cast 
itself  forth,  desiring  to  be  scraped  by  the  touch  of 
objects  of  sense.  Yet  if  these  had  not  a  soul,  they 
would  not  be  objects  of  love.  To  love  then,  and  to 
be  beloved,  was  sweet  to  me ;  but  more  when  I  ob- 
tained to  enjoy  the  person  I  loved.  I  defiled,  there- 
fore, the  clear  spring  of  friendship  with  the  filth  of 
concupiscence,  and  I  beclouded  its  brightness  with  the 


True  and  false  sympathy.  43 

hell  of  lustfulness;  and  thus  foul  and  unseemly,!  would 
fain,  through  exceeding  vanity,  be  fine  and  courtly. 
I  fell  headlong  then  into  the  love  wherein  I  longed 
to  be  ensnared.  My  God,  my  Mercy,  with  how  much 
gall  didst  Thou  out  of  Thy  great  goodness  besprinkle 
for  me  that  sweetness?  For  I  was  both  beloved, 
and  secretly  arrived  at  the  bond  of  enjoying;  and 
was  with  joy  fettered  with  sorrow-bringing  bonds, 
that  I  might  be  scourged  with  the  iron  burning-rods 
of  jealousy,  and  suspicions,  and  fears,  and  angers,  and 
quarrels. 

II.  2.  Stage  plays  also  carried  me  away,  full  of 
images  of  my  miseries,  and  of  fuel  to  my  fire.  Why 
is  it,  that  man  desires  to  be  made  sad,  beholding 
doleful  and  tragical  things,  which  yet  himself  would 
by  no  means  suffer  ?  yet  he  desires  as  a  spectator  to 
feel  sorrow  at  them,  and  this  very  sorrow  is  his  plea- 
sure. What  is  this  but  a  miserable  madness  ?  for  a 
man  is  the  more  affected  with  these  actions,  the  less 
free  he  is  from  such  affections.  When  a  man  suf- 
fers in  his  own  person,  it  is  styled  misery;  when 
he  compassionates  others,  then  it  is  mercy.  But 
what  sort  of  compassion  is  this  for  feigned  and 
sccnical  passions  ?  for  the  auditor  is  not  called  on  to 
relieve,  but  only  to  grieve :  and  he  applauds  the  ac- 
tor of  these  fictions  the  more,  the  more  he  grieves. 
And  if  the  calamities  of  those  persons  (whether  of 
old  times,  or  mere  fiction)  be  so  acted  that  the  spec- 
tator is  not  moved  to  tears,  he  goes  away  disgusted 
and  criticising;  but  if  he  be  moved  to  passion,  he 
stays  intent,  and  weeps  for  joy. 


44  True  and  false  sympathy. 

3.  Are  griefs  then  too  loved?  Verily  all  desire 
joy.  Or  since  no  man  likes  to  be  miserable,  is  he 
yet  pleased  to  be  merciful  ?  which  because  it  cannot 
be  without  sorrow,  for  this  reason  alone  is  sorrow 
loved  ?  This  also  springs  from  the  vein  of  friend- 
ship. But  whither  goes  that  vein  ?  whither  flows  it  ? 
wherefore  runs  it  into  that  torrent  of  pitch  bubbling 
forth  those  monstrous  tides  of  foul  lustfulness,  into 
which  it  is  wilfully  changed  and  transformed,  being 
of  its  own  will  precipitated  and  corrupted  from  its 
heavenly  clearness  ?  Shall  compassion  then  be  put 
away  ?  by  no  means.  Let  griefs  then  sometimes  be 
loved.  But  beware  of  uncleanness,  O  my  soul,  un- 
der the  guardianship  of  my  God,  the  God  of  our 
fathers,  who  is  to  be  praised  and  exalted  above  all 
for  ever,1  beware  of  uncleanness.  For  I  do  not  take 
myself  to  be  without  pity ;  but  then  in  the  theatres  I 
rejoiced  with  lovers,  when  they  wickedly  enjoyed  one 
another,  although  this  was  imaginary  only  in  the 
play.  And  when  they  lost  one  another,  as  if  very 
compassionate,  I  sorrowed  with  them,  yet  had  my 
delight  in  both.  But  now  I  much  more  pity  him 
that  rejoiceth  in  his  wickedness,  than  him  who  is 
thought  to  suffer  hardship,  by  missing  some  perni- 
cious pleasure,  and  the  loss  of  some  miserable  felicity. 
This  certainly  is  the  truer  mercy,  but  in  it,  grief  de- 
lights not.  For  though  he  that  grieves  for  the  mis- 
erable, be  commended  for  his  office  of  charity ;  yet 
had  he,  who  is  genuinely  compassionate,  rather  there 
were  nothing  to  grieve  for.  For  if  good  will  be  ill- 

1  Song  of  the  Three  Children,  ver.  3. 


Injury  of  false  sympathy.  45 

willed  (which  can  never  be),  then  may  he,  who  truly 
and  sincerely  commiserates,  wish  there  might  be 
some  miserable,  that  he  might  commiserate.  Some 
sorrow  may  then  be  allowed,  none  loved.  For  thus 
dost  Thou,  O  Lord  God,  who  lovest  souls  far  more 
purely  than  we,  and  hast  a  more  incorruptible  pity, 
yet  art  wounded  with  no  sorrowfulness.  And  who  is 
sufficient  for  these  things  fl 

4.  But  I,  miserable,  then  loved  to  grieve,  and 
sought  out  what  to  grieve  at;  and  that  acting  best 
pleased  me,  and  attracted  me  the  mo,st  vehemently, 
which  drew  tears  from  me.  What  marvel  was  it  that 
a  forlorn  sheep,  straying  from  Thy  flock,  and  impa- 
tient of  Thy  keeping,  I  became  infected  with  a  foul 
disease  ?  And  hence  the  love  of  griefs ;  not  such  as 
should  sink  deep  into  me ;  for  I  loved  not  to  suffer 
what  I  loved  to  look  on ;  but  such  as  upon  hearing 
their  fictions  should  lightly  scratch  the  surface  ;  from 
which,  as  from  envenomed  nails,  followed  inflamed 
swelling,  impostumes,  and  a  putrified  sore.  My  life 
being  such,  was  it  life,  O  my  .God  ? 

III.  5.  And  Thy  faithful  mercy  hovered  over  me 
from  afar.  Upon  how  grievous  iniquities  consumed  I 
myself,  following  a  sacrilegious  curiosity,  that  having 
forsaken  Thee,  it  might  bring  me  to  the  treacherous 
abyss,  and  the  beguiling  service  of  devils,  to  whom  I 
offered  my  evil  actions  as  a  sacrifice.  And  in  all  these 
things  Thou  didst  scourge  me  !  I  dared  even,  while 
Thy  solemnities  were  celebrated  within  the  walls 
of  Thy  church,  to  lust,  and  to  compass  a  business 

1 2  Cor.  ii.  16. 
6 


46  Augustine's  literary  ambition. 

having  death  for  its  fruits,  for  which  Thou  scourgedst 
me  with  grievous  punishments,  though  nothing  to  my 
eternal  undoing,  O  Thou  my  exceeding  mercy,  my 
God,  my  refuge  from  those  terrible  destroyers,  among 
whom  I  wandered  with  a  stiff  neck,  withdrawing 
further  from  Thee,  loving  mine  own  ways,  and  not 
Thine ;  loving  a  vagrant  liberty. 

6.  Those  studies,  also,  which  were  accounted  com- 
mendable, had  a  view  to  excelling  in  the- courts  of 
litigation;  the  more  be-praised,  the  craftier.  Such 
is  men's  blindness,  glorying  even  in  their  blindness ! 
And  now  I  was  chief  in  the  rhetoric  school,  whereat 
I  rejoiced  proudly,  and  I  swelled  with  arrogancy ; 
although  (Lord,  Thou  knowest)  far  quieter  and  alto- 
gether removed  from  the  subvertings  of  those  "sub- 
verters"1  (for  this  ill-omened  and  devilish  name  was 
the  very  badge  of  gallantry)  among  whom  I  lived, 
with  a  shameless  shame  that  I  was  not  even  as  they. 
With  them  I  lived,  and  was  sometimes  delighted 
with  their  friendship,  whose  doings  I  ever  did  abhor ; 
t.  e.,  their  "subvertings,"2  wherewith  they  wantonly 
persecuted  the  modesty  of  strangers,  whom  they  dis- 
turbed by  a  gratuitous,  jeering,  feeding  their  mali- 
cious mirth.  Nothing  can  be  liker  the  very  actions 
of  devils  than  these.  What  then  could  they  be  more 
truly  called  than  "  subverters "  ?  themselves  sub- 
verted and  perverted  first,  the  deceiving  spirits  se- 

1  Evcrsores;  who  are  described  in  Augustine's   Liber  De  ?rra  religione 
(75),  as  "  homines  qui  gaudent  miseriis  alienis,  et  risus  eibi  ac  ludicra 
Fpectacula  exhibent,  vel  exhiberi  voluut  eversioiiibus  et  erroribus  ali- 
orum."  —  ED. 

2  Evereiones. 


Philosophy  commenced  his  conversion.        47 

cretly  deriding  and  seducing  them,  by  that  wherein 
they  themselves  delighted  to  jeer  at  and  deceive 
others. 

IV.  7.  Among  such  as  these,  in  that  unsettled  age 
of  mine",  learned  I  books  of  eloquence,  wherein  I 
desired  to  be  eminent,  out  of  a  damnable  and  vain- 
glorious end,  a  joy  in  human  vanity.  In  the  ordinary 
course  of  study,  I  fell  upon  a  certain  book  of  Cicero, 
whose  speech  almost  all  admire;  not  so  his  heart. 
This  book  of  his  contains  an  exhortation  to  philoso- 
phy, and  is  called  " Hortensius"  But  this  book 
altered  my  feelings,  and  turned  my  prayers  to  Thy- 
self, O  Lord ;  and  made  me  have  other  purposes  and 
desires.  Every  vain  hope  at  once  became  worthless 
to  me ;  and  I  longed  with  an  incredibly  burning  de- 
sire for  an  immortality  of  wisdom,  and  began  now 
to  arise,  that  I  might  return  to  Thee.  For  not  to 
sharpen  my  tongue"  (which  thing  I  seemed  to  be 
purchasing  with  my  mother's  allowances,  in  that  my 
nineteenth  year,  my  father  being  dead  two  years  be- 
fore), not  to  sharpen  my  tongue  did  I  employ  that 
book;  nor  did  it  infuse  into  me  its  style,  but  its 
matter. 

8.  How  did  I  burn  then,  my  God,  how  did  I  burn 
to  remount  from  earthly  things  to  Thee ;  nor  knew  I 
what  Thou  wouldest  do  with  me.  For  with  Thee  is 
wisdom.  But  the  love  of  wisdom  is  in  Greek  called 
"philosophy,"  with  which  that  book  inflamed  me. 
Some  there  be  that  seduce  through  philosophy,  un- 
der a  great,  and  smooth,  and  honorable  name  color- 
ing and  disguising  their  own  errors :  and  almost  all 


48        Augustine's  love  of  the  name  of  CJirist, 

who  in  that  and  former  ages  were  such,  are  in  that 
book  censured  and  set  forth.  There  also  is  made  plain 
that  wholesome  advice  of  Thy  Spirit,  by  Thy  good 
and  devout  servant :  JJeioare  lest  any  man  spoil  you 
through  philosophy  and  vain  deceit,  after  the  tradi- 
tion of  men,  after  the  rudiments  of  the  icorld,  and 
not  after  Christ.  For  in  Him  dweUeth  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  bodily.1  And  since  at  that  time 
(Thou,  O  Light  of  my  heart,  knowest)  Apostolic 
Scripture  was  not  known  to  me,  I  was  delighted 
with  that  exhortation,  so  far  only,  that  I  was  thereby 
strongly  roused,  and  kindled,  and  inflamed  to  love, 
and  seek  and  obtain,  and  hold,  and  embrace,  not  this 
or  that  sect,  but  wisdom  itself,  whatever  it  were ; 
and  this  alone  checked  me,  thus  enkindled,  that  the 
name  of  Christ  was  not  in  it.  For  this  name,  accord- 
ing to  Thy  mercy,  O  Lord,  this  name  of  my  Saviour 
Thy  Son,  had  my  tender  heart,  even  with  my  mo- 
ther's milk,  devoutly  drunk  in,  and  deeply  treasured ; 
and  whatsoever  was  without  that  name,  though  never 
so  learned,  polished,  or  true,  took  not  entire  hold  of 
me. 

V.  9.  I  resolved  then  to  bend  my  mind  to  the 
holy  Scriptures,  that  I  might  see  what  they  were. 
But  behold,  I  see  a  thing  not  understood  by  the 
proud,  nor  laid  open  to  children,  lowly  in  access,  in 
its  recesses  lofty,  and  veiled  with  mysteries ;  and  I 
was  not  such  as  could  enter  into  it,  or  stoop  my  neck 
to  follow  its  steps.  For  not  as  I  now  speak,  did  I 
feel  when  I  turned  to  those  Scriptures;  but  they 

1  Col.  ii.  8,  9. 


but  distaste  for  Scripture.  49 

seemed  to  me  unworthy  to  bo  compared  to  the  state- 
liness  of  Tully :  for  my  swelling  pride  shrunk  from 
their  lowliness,  nor  could  my  sharp  wit  pierce  the 
interior  thereof.  Yet  were  they  such  as  would  grow 
up  in  a  little  one.  But  I  disdained  to  be  a  little  one ; 
and,  swollen  with  pride,  took  myself  to  be  a  great 
one. 

VI.  10.  Therefore  I  fell  among  men  proudly  do- 
ting, exceeding  carnal  and  prating,  in  whose  mouths 
were  the  snares  of  the  devil,  limed  with  the  mixture 
of  the  syllables  of  Thy  name,  and  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Paraclete,  our 
Comforter.  These  names  were  frequent  in  their 
mouth,  so  far  forth  as  the  sound  and  the  noise  of  the 
tongue. went,  but  their  heart  was  void  of  truth.  Yet 
they  cried  out  "  Truth,  Truth,"  and  spake  much 
thereof  to  me,  though  it  was  not  in  them:1  and  they 
spjike  falsehood,  not  of  Thee  only  (who  truly  art 
Truth),  but  even  of  those  elements  of  this  world,  Thy 
creatures.  And -I  indeed  ought  to  have  passed  by 
even  philosophers  who  spake  truth  concerning  them, 
for  love  of  Thee,  my  Father,  supremely  good,  Beauty 
of  all  things  beautiful.  O  Truth,  Truth,  how  in- 
wardly did  even  then  the  marrow  of  my  soul  pant  after 
Thee,  when  they  often  and  diversely,  and  in  many 
and  huge  books,  echoed  of  Thee  to  me,  though  it 
was  but  an  echo.  And  these  were  the  dishes  where- 
in to  me,  hungering  after  Thee,  they,  instead  of  Thee, 
served  up  the  Sun  and  Moon,  beautiful  works  of 
Thine,  but  yet  Thy  works,  not  Thyself,  no,  nor  Thy 

i  John  ii.  4 


50        His  love  of  truth  while  he  fell  into  error. 

first  works.  For  Thy  spiritual  works  are  before  these 
corporeal  works,  celestial  though  they  be,  and  shin- 
ing. But  now  I  hungered  and  thii-sted  not  even  after 
those  first  works  of  Thine,  but  after  Thee  Thyself, 
the  Truth  in  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow 
of  turning:1  yet  still  they  set  before  me  in  those 
dishes  glittering  fantasies,  than  which  better  were  it 
to  love  this  very  sun  (which  is  real  to  our  sight  at 
least),  than  those  fantasies  which  by  our  eyes  deceive 
our  mind.  Yet  because  I  thought  them  to  be  Thee, 
I  fed  thereon ;  not  eagerly,  for  Thou  didst  not  in 
them  taste  to  me  as  Thou  art ;  for  Thou  wast  not  in 
these  fictions,  nor  was  I  nourished  by  them,  but  ex- 
hausted rather.  Food  in  sleep  shows  very  like  our 
food  awake ;  yet  are  not  those  asleep  nourished  by 
it,  because  they  are  asleep.  But  those  fictions  were 
not  in  any  way  like  to  Thee,  as  Thou  hast  since 
revealed  Thyself  to  me;  for  those  were  corporeal 
fantasies,  false  bodies,  than  which  these  true  bodies, 
celestial  or  terrestrial,  which  with  our  fleshly  sight 
we  behold,  are  far  more  certain :  these  things  the 
beasts  and  birds  discern  as  well  as  we,  and  they  are 
more  certain  than  when  we  imagine  them.  And 
again,  wre  do  with  more  certainty  imagine  them,  than 
by  them  conjecture  other  vaster  and  infinite  bodies 
which  have  no  being.  Such  empty  husks  was  I  then 
fed  on  :  and  was  not  fed.  But  Thou,  my  soul's  Love, 
towards  whom  I  languish,  that  I  may  gather  strength, 
art  neither  those  bodies  which  we  see,  though  in 
heaven ;  nor  those  which  we  do  not  see  there ;  for 

l  James  i.  17. 


Erroneous  belief  in  God  nourishes  not.  .      51 

Thou  hast  created  them,  nor  dost  Thou  account  them 
among  the  chiefest  of  Thy  works.  How  far  then  art 
Thou  from  those  fantasies  of  mine,  fantasies  of  bodies 
which  are  not  at  all ;  than  which  the  images  of  those 
bodies,  which  are,  are  far  more  certain ;  and  more 
certain  still  the  bodies  themselves,  which  yet  Thou 
art  not ;  no,  nor  yet  the  soul,  which  is  the  life  of  the 
bodies.  Better  and  more  certain  is  the  life  of  the 
bodies,  than  the  bodies;  but  Thou  art  the  life  of 
souls,  the  life  of  lives,  having  life  in  Thyself;  and 
Thou  changest  not,  O  life  of  my  soul. 

11.  Where  then  wert  Thou  then  to  me,  and  how 
far  from  me  ?  Far,  verily,  was  I  straying  from  Thee, 
barred  from  the  very  husks  of  the  swine,  whom  with 
husks  I  fed.  For  how  much  better  are  the  fables  of 
poets  and  grammarians,  than  these  snares?  For 
verses,  and  poems,  and  "  Medea  flying,"  are  more 
profitable  truly,  than  these  men's  five  elements,1  vari- 
ously disguised,  answering  to  five  dens  of  darkness, 
which  have  no  being,  yet  slay  the  believer.  For 
verses  and  poems  I  can  turn  to  true  food,  and  though 
I  did  sing  "  Medea  flying,"  yet  I  maintained  it  not  as 
true  ;.  though  I  heard  it  sung,  I  believed  it  not :  but 
those  things  I  did  believe.  Woe,  woe,  by  what  steps 
was  I  brought  down  to  the  depths  of  hell  /2  toiling  and 
turmoiling  through  want  of  Truth!  For  I  sought 
after  Thee,  my  God  (to  Thee  I  confess  it,  who  hadst 
mercy  on  me,  before  I  confessed),  not  according  to 
the  understanding  of  the  mind,  wherein  Thou  will- 
edst  that  I  should  excel  the  beasts,  but  according  to 

1  The  allusion  is  to  the  Manichaean  "  elements."  —  ED.      2  Prov.  ix.  18. 


52         Erroneous  belief  in  God  nourishes  not. 

the  sense  of  the  flesh.  But  Thou  wert  more  inward 
to  me,  than  my  most  inward  part ;  and  higher  than 
my  highest.  I  lighted  upon  that  bold  woman,  simple 
and  knoweth  nothing,  shadowed  out  in  Solomon,  sit- 
ting at  the  door,  and  saying,  Eat  ye  bread  of  secre- 
cies willingly,  and  drink  ye  stolen  waters  ichich  are 
sweet:1  she  seduced  me,  because  she  found  my  soul 
dwelling  abroad  in  the  eye  of  my  flesh,  and  ruminat- 
ing on  such  food  as  through  it  I  had  devoured. 

VII.  12.  For  other  than  this,  that  which  really  is, 
I  knew  not ;  and  was,  as  it  were  through  sharpness 
of  wit,  persuaded  to  assent  to  foolish  deceivers,  when 
they  asked  me,  "  Whence  is  evil  ?  "  "  Is  God  bounded 
by  a  bodily  shape,  and  has  hairs  and  nails  ?  "  "  Are 
they  to  be  esteemed  righteous,  who  had  many 
wives  at  once,  and  did  kill  men,  and  sacrificed  living 
creatures?"2  At  which  I,  in  my  ignorance,  was 
much  troubled,  and  departing  from  the  truth,  seemed 
to  myself  to  be  making  towards  it ;  because  as  yet  I 
knew  not  that  evil  was  nothing  but  a  privation  of 
good,  until  at  last  a  thing  ceases  altogether  to  be ; 
which  how  should  I  see,  the  sight  of  whose  eyes 
reached  only  to  bodies,  and  of  my  mind  to  a  phan- 
tasm ?  And  I  knew  not  God  to  be  a  Spirit?  not  one 
who  hath  parts  extended  in  length  and  breadth,  or 
whose  being  was  bulk ;  for  every  bulk  is  less  in  a 
part,  than  in  the  whole  :  and  if  it  be  infinite,  it  must 
be  less  in  such  part  as  is  defined  by  a  certain  space, 
than  in  its  infinitude ;  and  so  is  not  wholly  every- 
where, as  Spirit,  as  God.  And  what  that  is  in  us,  by 

i  Prov.  ix.  13—17.  2  1  Kings  xviii.  40.  3  John  iv.  24. 


God  sought  wrongly  is  not  found.  53 

which  we  are  like  to  God,  and  in  Scripture  are 
rightly  said  to  be  after  the  image  of  God,1  I  was 
altogether  ignorant. 

13.  Nor  knew  I  that  true  inward  righteousness, 
which  judgeth  not  according  to  custom,  but  out  of 
the  most  rightful  law  of  God  Almighty,  whereby  the 
ways  of  places  and  times  were  disposed,  according 
to  those  times  and  places ;  itself  meantime  being  the 
same  always  and  everywhere,  not  one  thing  in  one 
place,  and  another  in  another ;  according  to  which 
Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  Moses,  and 
David,  were  righteous,  and  all  those  commended  by 
the  mouth  of  God  ;  but  were  judged  unrighteous  by 
silly  men,  judgin g  out  of  man's  judgment?  and  meas- 
uring by  their  own  petty  habits  the  moral  habits  of 
the  whole  human  race.  As  if  in  an  armory,  one, 
ignorant  what  were  adapted  to  each  part,  should 
cover  his  head  with  greaves,  or  seek  to  be  shod  with 
a  helmet,  and  complain  that  they  fitted  not ;  or  as  if 
on  a  day,  when  business  is  publicly  stopped  in  the 
afternoon,  one  were  angered  at  not  being  allowed  to 
keep  open  shop,  because  he  had  been  in  the  fore- 
noon ;  or  when  in  one  house  he  observeth  some  ser- 
vant take  a  thing  in  his  hand,  which  the  butler  is  not 
suffered  to  meddle  with  ;  or  something  permitted  out 
of  doors,  which  is  forbidden  in  the  dining-room ;  and 
should  be  angry,  that  in  one  house,  and  one  family, 
the  same  thing  is  not  allotted  everywhere,  and  to  all. 
Even  such  are  they,  who  are  fretted  to  hear  some- 
thing to  have  been  lawful  for  righteous  men  for- 

i  Gen.  i.  27.  2  1  Cor.  iv.  3. 


54     God's  law  the  same  /  in  application,  varies. 

merly,  which  now  is  not;  or  that  God,  for  certain 
temporal  respects,  commanded  some  one  thing,  and 
some  another,  while  both  obeyed  the  same  righteous- 
ness :  whereas  they  see,  in  one  man,  and  one  day, 
and  one  house,  different  things  to  be  fit  for  different 
members,  and  a  thing  formerly  lawful,  after  a  certain 
time  not  so ;  in  one  comer  permitted  or  commanded, 
but  in  another  rightly  forbidden  and  punished.  Is 
justice  therefore  various  or  mutable  ?  No,  but  the 
times,  over  which  it  presides,  flow  not  evenly,  be- 
cause they  are  times.  Men,  whose  days  are  few 
upon  the  earth?  by  their  senses  cannot  harmonize 
the  causes  of  things  in  former  ages  and  other  nations, 
which  they  have  had  no  experience  of,  with  those 
which  they  have  experience  of;  whereas  in  one 
and  the  same  body,  day,  or  family,  they  easily  see 
what  is  fitting  for  each  member,  and  season,  part, 
and  person ;  to  the  one  they  take  exceptions,  to  the 
other  they  submit. 

14.  These  things  I  then  knew  not,  nor  observed; 
they  struck  my  sight  on  all  sides,  but  I  saw  them 
not.  I  indited  verses,  in  which  I  might  not  place 
every  foot  everywhere,  but  differently  in  different 
metres ;  nor  even  in  any  one  metre  the  self-same 
foot  in  all  places.  Yet  the  art  itself,  by  which  I  in- 
dited, had  not  different  principles  for  these  different 
cases,  but  comprised  all  in  one.  Still  I  saw  not  how 
that  righteousness,  which  good  and  holy  men  obeyed, 
did  far  more  excellently  and  sublimely  contain  in  one 
all  those  things  which  God  commanded,  and  in  no 

i  Job  xiv.  1. 


Actions  of  Patriarchs  prophetic.  55 

part  varied ;  although  in  varying  times  it  prescribed 
not  everything  at  once,  but  apportioned  and  enjoined 
what  was  fit  for  each.  And  I,  in  my  blindness,  cen- 
sured the  holy  Fathers,  not  only  wherein  they  made 
use  of  things  present  as  God  commanded  and  in- 
spired them,  but  also  wherein  they  were  fortelling 
things  to  come,  as  God  was  revealing  in  them. 

VIII.  15.  Can  it  at  any  time  or  place  be  unjust  to 
love  God  with  all  his  heart,  with  all  his  soul,  and 
with  all  his  mind ;  and  his  neighbor  as  himself?1 
Therefore  are  those  foul  offences  which  are  against 
nature,  to  be  everywhere  and  at  all  times  detested 
and  punished ;  such  as  those  of  the  men  of  Sodom : 
which,  should  all  nations  commit,  they  would  all 
stand  guilty  of  the  same  crime,  by  the  law  of  God, 
who  hath  not  made  men  that  they  should  so  abuse 
one  another.  For  even  that  intercourse  which 
should  be  between  God  and  us  is  violated,  when  that 
same  nature,  of  which  lie  is  Author,  is  polluted  by 
perversity  of  lust.  But  those  actions  which  are 
offences  against  the  customs  of  men,  are  to  be 
avoided  according  to  the  customs  severally  prevail- 
ing ;  so  that  a  thing  agreed  upon,  and  confirmed,  by 
custom  or  law  of  any  city  or  nation,  may  not  be  vio- 
lated at  the  lawless  pleasure  of  any,  whether  native 
or  foreigner.  For  any  part  which  harmonizeth  not 
with  its  whole,  is  offensive.  But  when  God  com- 
mands a  thing  to  be  done,  against  the  customs  or 
compact  of  any  people,  though  it  were  never  done 
by  them  heretofore,  it  is  to  be  done ;  and  if  inter- 

l  Matt.  xxii.  37-39. 


56     God  to  be  obeyed  in,  or  against  human  laics. 

mitted,  it  is  to  be  restored ;  and  if  never  ordained, 
is  now  to  be  ordained.  For  if  it  be  lawful  for  a  king, 
in  the  state  which  he  reigns  over,  to  command  what 
no  one  before  him,  nor  he  himself  heretofore,  had 
commanded ;  and  if  to  obey  him  cannot  be  against 
the  common  weal  of  the  state  (nay,  it  were  against 
it  if  he  were  not  obeyed,  for  to  obey  princes  is  a 
general  compact  of  human  society)  ;  how  much  more 
unhesitatingly  ought  we  to  obey  God,  in  all  which 
He  commands,  the  Ruler  of  all  His  creatures !  For, 
as  among  the  powers  in  man's  society,  the  greater 
authority  is  obeyed  in  preference  to  the  lesser,  so 
must  God  above  all. 

16.  So  in  acts  of  violence,  where  there  is  a  wish  to 
hurt,  whether  by  reproach  or  injury;  and  this  either 
for  revenge,  as  one  enemy  against  another;  or  for 
some  profit  belonging  to  another,  as  the  robber  to 
the  traveller ;  or  to  avoid  some  evil,  as  towards  one 
who  is  feared  ;  or  through  envy,  as  one  less  fortunate 
to  one  more  so,  or  one  well  thriven  in  anything,  to 
him  whose  being  on  a  par  with  himself  he  fears,  or 
grieves  at;  or  for  the  mere  pleasure  at  another's 
pain,  as  spectators  of  gladiators,  or  deriders  and 
mockers  of  others  :  all  these  are  the  varied  forms  of 
iniquity,  which  spring  from  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  of 
the  eye,1  or  of  rule,  either  singly,  or  two  combined, 
or  all  together.  And  so  do  men  live  ill  against 
the  three  and  seven,  that  psaltery  of  ten  strings? 
Thy  Ten  Commandments,  O  God,  most  high,  and 
most  sweet.  But  what  foul  offences  can  there  be 

1  1  John  ii.  16.  8  Ts.  cxliv.  9. 


Self -will  and  self-love  source  of  all  sin.         57 

against  Thee,  who  canst  not  be  defiled  ?  or  what  acts 
of  violence  against  Thee,  who  canst  not  be  harmed  ? 
But  Thou  avengest  what  men  commit  against  them- 
selves, since  when  they  sin  against  Thee,  they  do 
wickedly  against  their  own  souls,  and  iniquity  gives 
itself  the  lief  by  corrupting  and  perverting  the  nature 
which  Thou  hast  created  and  ordained ;  either  by  an 
immoderate  use  of  things  allowed ;  or  in  burning 
in  things  unallowed,  to  that  use  which  is  against 
nature;*  or  in  guiltily  raging  with  heart  and  tongue 
against  Thee,  kicking  against  the  pricks  /3  or  when, 
bursting  the  pale  of  human  society,  they  boldly  joy 
in  self-willed  combinations  or  divisions,  according 
as  they  have  any  object  to  gain  or  cause  of  offence. 
And  these  things  are  done  when  Thou  art  forsaken, 
O  Fountain  of  Life,  who  art  the  only  and  true  Crea- 
tor and  Governor  of  the  Universe,  and  by  a  self- 
willed  pride  any  one  false  thing  is  selected  therefrom 
and  loved.  So  then  by  a  humble  devoutness  we  re- 
turn to  Thee ;  and  Thou  cleansest  us  from  our  evil 
habits,  and  art  merciful  to  those  who  confess  their 
sins,  and  hearest  the  groaning  of  the  prisoner*  and 
loosest  us  from  the  chains  which  we  made  for  our- 
selves, if  we  lift  not  up  against  Thee  the  horns  of  an 
unreal  liberty,  suffering  the  loss  of  all  through  covet- 
ousness  of  more,  by  loving  more  our  own  private 
good,  than  Thee,  the  Good  of  all.  • 

IX.  17.  Amidst  these  offences  of  foulness  and  vio- 
lence, and  these  many  iniquities,  are  the  sins  of  those 
men,  who  are,  on  the  whole,  making  proficiency; 

l  YB.  xxvi.  12.  Vulg.        2  Bom.  i.  27.      3  Acts  ix.  6.       <  Ps.  cii.  20. 


58        Self-will  and  self-love,  source  of  att  sin. 

which,  by  those  that  judge  rightly  according  to  the 
rule  of  perfection,  are  condemned,  yet  the  persona 
themselves  are  commended,  upon  hope  of  future 
fruit,  as  in  the  green  blade  of  growing  corn.  And 
there  are  some  actions  resembling  offences  of  foul- 
ness or  violence,  which  yet  are  no  sins ;  because  they 
offend  neither  Thee,  our  Lord  God,  nor  human  so- 
ciety ;  as  when  things  fitting  for  a  given  period  are 
obtained  for  the  service  of  the  whole  life,  and  we 
know  not  whether  out  of  a  lust  of  having ;  or  when 
things  are,  for  the  sake  of  correction,  by  constituted 
authority  punished,  and  we  know  not  whether  out 
of  a  lust  of  hurting.  Many  an  action,  also,  Avhich  in 
men's  sight  is  disapproved,  is  by  Thy  testimony 
approved ;  and  many,  by  men  praised,  are  (Thou 
being  witness),  condemned  :  because  the  appearance 
of  the  action,  and  the  mind  of  the  doer,  and  the  un- 
known exigency  of  the  time,  severally  vary.  But 
when  Thou  on  a  sudden  commandest  an  unwonted 
and  unthought-of  thing,  yea,  although  Thou  hast 
heretofore  forbidden  it,  and  still  for  the  time  hidest 
the  reason  of  Thy  command,  and  it  be  against  the 
ordinance  of  some  society  of  men,  who  doubts  but  it 
is  to  be  done,  seeing  that  that  society  of  men  is  just 
which  serves  Thee  ?  But  blessed  are  they  who  know 
that  Thou  hast  given  commands !  For  all  things  are 
done  by  Thy  servants,  either  to  show  forth  what  is 
needful  for  the  present,  or  to  foreshow  things  to 
come. 

X.  18.  Being  ignorant  of  these  things,  I  scoffed  at 
those  Thy  holy  servants  and  prophets.    And  what 


Who  Rjieak  against  truth  fall  into  gross  error,     59 

gained  I  by  scoffing  at  them,  but  to  be  scoffed  at  by 
Thee,  being  insensibly  and  step  by  step  drawn  on  to 
such  follies,  as  to  believe  that  a  fig  wept  when 
it  was  plucked,  and  the  tree,  its  mother,  shed  milky 
tears  ?  Which  fig,  notwithstanding  (plucked  by  some 
other's,  not  his  own,  guilt),  had  some  (Hanichaean) 
saint  eaten,  and  mingled  with  his  bowels,  he  should 
breathe  out  of  it  angels ;  yea,  there  should  burst  forth 
particles  of  divinity,  at  every  moan  or  groan  in  his 
prayer ;  which  particles  of  the  most  high  and  true 
God  had  remained  bound  in  that  fig,  unless  they  had 
been  set  at  liberty  by  the  teeth  or  belly  of  some 
u  Elect "  saint !  And  I,  miserable,  believed  that 
more  mercy  was  to  be  shown  to  the  fruits  of  the 
earth,  than  to  men,  for  whom  they  were  created. 
For  if  any  one  an  hungered}  not  a  Manichsean,  should 
ask  for  any,  that  morsel  would  seem  as  it  were  con- 
demned to  capital  punishment,  which  should  be  given 
him.1 

XI.  19.  And  Thou  sentest  Thine  hand  from  above? 
and  drewest  my  soul  out  of  that  profound  darkness ; 
my  mother,  thy  faithful  one,  weeping  to  Thee  for 
me,  more  than  mothers  weep  the  bodily  deaths  of 
their  children.  For  she,  by  that  faith  and  spirit 
which  she  had  from  Thee,  discerned  the  death 
wherein  I  lay,  and  Thou  heardest  her,  O  Lord ; 
Thou  heardest  her,  and  despisedst  not  her  tears, 
when,  streaming  down,  they  watered  the  ground 
under  her  eyes  in  every  place  where  she  prayed ; 
yea,  Thou  heardest  her.  For  whence  was  that 

l  See  Guericke's  Church  Uistorj-, }  54,  p.  190.  —ED.       2  Fs.  cxliv.  7. 


CO  AugustinJs  conversion  foretold  to 

dream  whereby  Thou  comfortedest  her,  so  that  she 
allowed  me  to  live  with  her,  and  to  eat  at  the  same 
table  in  the  house,  which  she  had  begun  to  shrink 
from,  abhorring  and  detesting  the  blasphemies  of  my 
error?  For  she  saw  herself  standing  on  a  certain 
wooden  rule,  and  a  shining  youth  coming  towards 
her,  cheerful,  and  smiling  upon  her  who  was  sad,  and 
overwhelmed  with  grief.  But  he  having  (in  order 
to  instruct,  as  is  their  wont,  and  not  to  be  in- 
structed) inquired  of  her  the  causes  of  her  grief  and 
daily  tears,  and  she  answering  that  she  was  bewailing 
my  perdition,  he  bade  her  rest  contented,  and  told 
her  to  look  and  observe,  "  That  where  she  was,  there 
was  I  also."  And  when  she  looked,  she  saw  me 
standing  by  her  on  the  same  rule.  Whence  was 
this,  but  that  Thine  ears  were  towards  her  heart? 
O  Thou  Good  omnipotent,  who  so  carest  for  every 
one  of  us,  as  if  Thou  caredst  for  him  only ;  and  so 
for  all,  as  if  all  were  but  one ! 

20.  Whence  was  this,  also,  that  when  she  had  told 
ine  this  vision,  and  I  would  fain  bend  it  to  mean, 
"  That  she  rather  should  not  despair  of  being  one 
day  what  I  was ; "  she  presently,  without  any  hesita- 
tion, replies:  "No;  for  it  was  not  told  me  that, 
'  where  he,  there  thou  also ; '  but '  where  thou,  there 
he  also ? '"  I  confess  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  to  the 
best  of  my  remembrance  (and  I  have  often  spoken 
of  this),  that  Thy  answer  through  my  waking  mo- 
ther—  in  that  she  was  not  perplexed  by  the  plausi- 
bility of  my  false  interpretation,  and  so  quickly  saw 
what  was  to  be  seen,  and  which  I  certainly  had  not 


his  mother  in  a  dream.  61 

perceived  before  she  spake  —  even  then  moved  me 
more  than  the  dream  itself,  whereby  the  joy  to  that 
holy  woman,  to  be  fulfilled  so  long  after,  was  foretold 
for  the  consolation  of  her  present  anguish.  For 
almost  nine  years  passed,  in  which  I  wallowed  in  the 
mire  of  that  deep  pit,  and  the  darkness  of  falsehood, 
often  essaying  to  rise,  but  dashed  down  the  more 
grievously.  All  which  time  that  chaste,  godly,  and 
sober  widow  (such  as  Thou  lovest),  now  more 
cheered  with  hope,  yet  no  whit  relaxing  in  her 
weeping  and  mourning,  ceased  not  at  all  hours  of 
her  devotions  to  bewail  my  case  unto  Thee.  And 
her  prayers  entered  into  Thy  presence ;l  and  yet 
Thou  sufferedst  me  to  be  involved  and  re-involved 
in  that  darkness. 

XII.  21.  Thou  gavest  her  meantime  another  an- 
^swer,  which  I  call  to  mind;  for  I  pass  bymuch,  to 
confess  those  things  which  are  most  important,  and 
much  I  do  not  remember.  Thou  gavest  her  then 
another  answer,  by  a  priest  of  Thine,  a  certain 
bishop  brought  up  in  Thy  Church,  and  well  studied 
in  Thy  books.  Whom  when  she  had  entreated  him 
to  converse  with  me,  refute  my  errors,  unteach  me  ill 
things,  and  teach  me  good  things  (for  this  he  was 
wont  to  do,  when  he  found  persons  fitted  to  receive 
it),  he  refused,  wisely,  as  I  afterwards  perceived. 
For  he  answered,  that  I  was  yet  unteachable,  being 
puffed  up  with  the  novelty  of  that  heresy,  and  had 
already  perplexed  divers  unskilful  persons  with  cap- 
tious questions,  as  she  had  told  him :  "  But  let  him 

l  Ps.  Ixxxviii.  1. 
7 


62         Unceasing  prayers  and  tears  never  fail. 

alone  awhile,"  saith  he,  "  only  pray  God  for  him  ;  he 
will  of  himself,  by  reading,  find  what  that  error  is, 
and  how  great  its  impiety."  At  the  same  time,  he 
told  her  how  himself,  when  a  little  one,  had  by  his 
seduced  mother  been  consigned  over  to  the  Ma- 
nichees,  and  had  not  only  read,  but  frequently  copied 
out  almost  all  their  books,  and  had  (without  any 
argument  or  proof  from  any  one)  seen  how  much 
that  sect  was  to  be  avoided ;  and  had  avoided  it. 
And  when  she  would  not  be  satisfied,  but  urged  him 
more,  with  entreaties  and  many  tears,  that  he  would 
see  me,  and  discourse  with  me,  a  little  displeased  at 
her  importunity,  he  said,  "  Go  thy  ways,  and  God 
bless  thee,  for  it  is  not  possible  that  the  son  of  these 
tears  should  perish."  Which  answer  she  took  (as 
she  often  mentioned  in  her  conversations  with  me) 
as  if  it  had  sounded  from  heaven. 


THE  FOURTH  BOOK. 


AUGUSTINE'S  LIFE  FROM  NINETEEN  TO  EIGHT-AND-TWENTT  —  HIMSELF 
A  MANICH^BAN,  AND  SEDUCING  OTHERS  TO  THB  SAME  BEHEST  — 
PARTIAL  OBEDIENCE  AMIDST  VANITY  AND  SIN  —  CONSULTING  AS- 
TROLOGKU8,  ONLY  PARTIALLY  SHAKEN  HEREIN  —  LOSS  OF  AN  EARLY 
FRIEND,  WHO  IS  CONVERTED  BY  BEING  BAPTIZED  IN  A  SWOON  —  RE- 
1-LECTIONS  ON  GRIEF,  ON  REAL  AND  UflREAL  FRIENDSHIP,  AND 

LOVE  OF  FAME  —  WHITES  ON  THE  "FAIR  AND  FIT,"  YET  CANNOT 
RIGHTLY,  THOUGH  GOD  HAD  GIVEN  HIM  OUEAT  TALENTS,  SINCE 
HE  ENTERTAINED  WRONG  NOTIONS  OF  GOD  —  AND  SO  EVEN  HIS 
KNOWLEDGE  HE  APPLIED  ILL. 


I.  1.  For  this  space  of  nine  years  then  (from  my 
nineteenth  year  to  my  eighth-and-twentieth )  I  lived 
seduced  and  seducing,  deceived  and  deceiving,  in 
divers  lusts ;  openly,  by  sciences  which  they  call  lib- 
eral ;  secretly,  with  a  false-named  religion ;  here 
proud,  there  superstitious,  everywhere  vain.  Here 
hunting  after  the  emptiness  of  popular  praise,  down 
even  to  theatrical  applauses,  and  poetic  prizes,  and 
strifes  for  grassy  garlands,  and  the  follies  of  shows, 
and  the  intemperance  of  desires.  There,  desiring  to 
be  cleansed  from  these  defilements,  by  carrying  food 
to  those  who  were  called  "  elect "  and  "  holy,"  out  of 
which,  in  the  workhouse  of  their  stomachs,  they 
should  forge  for  us  Angels  and  Gods,  by  whom  we 
might  be  cleansed.  These  things  did  I  follow,  and 
practise  with  my  friends,  deceived  by  me,  and  with 
me.  Let  the  arrogant  mock  me,  and  such  as  have 


64     Sin  restrained,  but  without  fixed  principles. 

not  been,  to  their  soul's  health,  stricken  and  cast 
down  by  Thee,  O  my  God  ;  but  I  would  still  confess 
to  Thee  mine  own  shame  in  Thy  praise.  Suffer  me, 
I  beseech  Thee,  and  give  me  grace  to  go  over  in 
my  present  remembrance  the  wanderings  of  my  fore-, 
passed  time,  and  to  offer  unto  Thee  the  sacrifice  of 
thanksgiving*  For  without  Thee,  what  am  I  to  my- 
self, but  a  guide  to  mine  own  downfall  ?  or  what  am 
I  even  at  the  best,  but  an  infant  sucking  the  milk 
Thou  givest,  and  feeding  upon  Thee,  the  food  that 
perisheth  not  ?*  But  what  sort  of  a  man  is  any  man, 
seeing  he  is  but  a  man  ?  Let  now  the  strong  and  the 
mighty  laugh  at  me,  but  let  me,  the  poor  and  needy* 
confess  unto  Thee. 

II.  2.  In  those  years  I  taught  rhetoric,  and,  over- 
come by  cupidity,  made  sale  of  a  loquacity  to  over- 
come by.  Yet  I  preferred  (Lord,  Thou  knowest) 
honest  scholars  (as  they  are  accounted),  and  without 
artifice  I  taught  them  artifices,  not  to  be  practised 
against  the  life  of  the  guiltless,  though  sometimes 
for  the  life  of  the  guilty.  And  Thou,  O  God,  from 
afar  perceivedst  me  stumbling  in  that  slippery  course, 
and  amid  much  smoke  sending  out  some  sparks  of 
faithfulness,  which  I  showed  in  my  guidance  of  such 
as  loved  vanity,  and  sought  after  leasing,*  myself 
their  companion.  In  those  years  I  had  one  compan- 
ion, not  in  that  which  is  called  lawful  marriage,  but 
whom  I  had  found  out  in  a  wayward  passion  void  of 
understanding ;  yet  but  one,  remaining  faithful  even 

1  Ps.  xlix.  14.  3  Ps.  Ixxiii.  21. 

2  John  vi.  27.  *  Is.  xlii.  5;  Matt.  xii.  20;  Ps.  iv.  2. 


JVo  real  love  of  God  without  sound  faith.      65 

to  her;  in  whom  I  in  my  own  case  experienced  what 
difference  there  is  betwixt  the  self-restraint  of  the 
marriage-covenant,  for  the  sake  of  issue,  and  the 
bargain  of  a  lustful  love,  where  children  are  born 
against  their  parents'  will,  although  once  born  they 
may  constrain  love. 

3.  I  remember,  also,  that  when  I  had  settled  to 
enter  the  lists  for  a  theatrical  prize,  some  wizard 
asked  me  what  I  would  give  him  to  win  :  but  I,  de- 
testing and  abhorring  such  foul  mysteries,  answered, 
"  Though  the  garland  were  of  imperishable  gold,  I 
would  not  suffer  a  fly  to  be  killed  to  gain  me  it." 
For  he  was  to  kill  some  living  creatures  in  his  sacri- 
fices, and  by  that  means  to  induce  the  devils  to  favor 
me.  But  this  ill  also  I  rejected,  not  out  of  pure  love 
to  Thee,  O  God  of  my  heart ;  for  I  knew  not  how  to 
love  Thee,  not  knowing  how  to  conceive  aught  be- 
yond a  material  brightness.  And  doth  not  a  soul, 
sighing  after  such  fictions,  commit  fornication  against 
Thee,  trust  in  things  unreal,  and  feed  the  wind?1 
Still  I  would  not,  forsooth,  have  sacrifices  offered  to 
devils  for  me,  to  whom  I  was  sacrificing  myself  by 
that  superstition.  For  what  else  is  it  to  feed  the 
wind,  but  to  feed  devils ;  that  is,  by  going  astray,  to 
become  their  pleasure  and  derision  ? 

III.  4.  Those  impostors,  then,  whom  they  style 
Mathematicians,2  I  consxilted  without  scruple ;  be- 
cause they  seemed  to  use  no  sacrifice,  nor  to  pray  to 
any  spirit  for  their  divinations  :  which  art,  however, 

1  Hos.  xii.'l. 

2  Astrologers;  "  pulsi'ltalia  mathcmatici,"  Taciti  Historia  II.  62.— ED. 


66  Vanity  of  Divination. 

Christian  and  true  piety  consistently  rejects  and  con- 
demns. For,  it  is  a  good  thing  to  confess  unto  Thee, 
and  to  say,  Have  mercy  upon  me,  heal  my  soul,  for  I 
have  sinned  against  Thee;1  and  not  to  abuse  Thy 
mercy  for  a  license  to  sin,  but  to  remember  the 
Lord's  words,  Behold,  thou  art  made  whole,  sin  no 
more,  lest  a  worse  thing  come  unto  thee?  All  which 
wholesome  advice  they  labor  to  destroy,  saying, 
"The  cause  of  thy  sin  is  inevitably  determined  in 
heaven ;"  and  "This  did  Venus,  or  Saturn,  or  Mars :" 
that  man,  forsooth,  flesh  and  blood,  and  proud  cor- 
ruption, might  be  blameless ;  while  the  Creator  and 
Ordainer  of  heaven  and  the  stars  is  to  bear  the 
blame."3  And  who  is  He  but  our  God?  the  very 
sweetness  and  well-spring  of  righteousness,  who  ren- 
derest  to  every  man  according  to  his  icorks :  and  a 
broken  and  contrite  heart  wilt  Thou  not  despise* 

5.  There  was  in  those  days  a  wise  man,5  very  skil- 
ful in  physic,  and  renowned  therein,  who  had  with 
his  own  proconsular  hand  put  the  Agonistic  garland 
upon  my  distempered  head,  but  not  as  a  physician : 
for  this  disease  Thou  only  curest,  who  resistest  the 
proud  and  givest  grace  to  the  humble.6  Thou  didst 
speak  to  me  even  by  that  old  man,  to  heal  my  soul. 
For  having  become  more  acquainted  with  him,  and 
hanging  assiduously  and  fixedly  on  his  speech  (for 

1  Ps.  xli.  4. 

2  John  v.  14. 

3  Compare  '« This  is  the  excellent  foppery,"  etc. ;  King  Lear,  Act  I.  Sc. 
2.  —  ED. 

4  Rom.  ii.  6;  Matt  xvi.  27;  Ps.  li.  17. 

6  Vindicianus;  spoken  of  again  iu  Book  VII.  c.  vi.  —  ED. 
61  Pet.  v.  5;  Jam.  iv.  6. 


Proofs  against  divination  difficult  to  him.     67 

though  in  simple  terms,  it  was  vivid,  lively,  and 
earnest),  when  he  had  gathered,  by  my  discourse, 
that  I  was  given  to  the  books  of  nativity-casters,  he 
kindly  and  fatherly  advised  me  to  cast  them  away, 
and  not  fruitlessly  bestow  a  care  and  diligence  nec- 
essary for  useful  things,  upon  these  vanities  ;  saying, 
that  he  had  in  his  earliest  years  studied  that  art,  so 
as  to  make  it  the  profession  whereby  he  should  live, 
and  that,  understanding  Hippocrates,  he  could  soon 
have  understood  such  a  study  as  this ;  and  yet  he 
had  given  it  over,  and  taken  to  physic,  for  no  other 
reason  but  that  he  found  it  utterly  false ;  and  he,  as 
an  honest  man,  would  not  get  his  living  by  deluding 
people.  "But  thou,"  saith  he,  "hast  rhetoric  to 
maintain  thyself  by,  so  that  thou  followest  this  false 
art  of  free  choice,  not  from  necessity  of  a  support : 
the  more  then  oughtest  thou  to  give  me  credit  in 
respect  to  it,  who  labored  to  acquire  it  so  perfectly, 
as  to  get  my  living  by  it  alone."  Of  whom,  when  I 
had  demanded  how  then  could  many  true  things  be 
foretold  by  it,  he  answered  me  (as  well  as  he  could), 
"  That  the  force  of  chance,  diffused  throughout  the 
whole  order  of  things,  brought  this  about.  For  if, 
when  a  man  by  hap-hazard  opens  the  pages  of  some 
poet,  who  sang  and  thought  of  something  wholly 
different,  a  verse  oftentimes  fell  out  wondrously 
agreeable  to  the  present  business ;  it  were  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if,  out  of  the  soul  of  man,  unconscious 
what  takes  place  in  it,  by  some  higher  instinct  an 
answer  should  be  given,  by  hap,  not  by  art,  corre- 
sponding to  the  business  and  actions  of  the  de- 
mander." 


68  Augustine's  friend. 

6.  And  thus  much,  either  from  or  through  him, 
Thou  conveyedst  to  me,  and  tracedst  in  my  memory 
what  I  might  hereafter  examine  for  myself.  But  at 
that  time  neither  he,  nor  my  dearest  Nebridius,  a 
youth  singularly  good  and  of  a  holy  fear,  who  de- 
rided the  whole  system  of  divination,  could  persuade 
ine  to  cast  it  aside,  the  authority  of  the  authors 
swaying  me  yet  more,  and  as  yet  I  had  found  no 
certain  proof  (such  as  I  sought)  whereby  it  might 
without  all  doubt  appear,  that  what  had  been  truly 
foretold  by  those  consulted  was  the  result  of  hap- 
hazard, not  of  the  art  of  the  star-gazers. 

IV.  7.  In  those  years  when  I  first  began  to  teach 
rhetoric  in  my  native  town,  I  had  found  a  friend  in 
one  blooming  with  me  in  the  same  bud  of  youth,  and 
whom  a  community  of  studies  made  extremely  dear 
to  me.  He  had  grown  up  of  a  child  with  me,  and  to- 
gether we  went  to  school,  and  to  play.  But  he  was 
not  yet  my  friend  as  afterwards,  nor  even  then,  as 
true  friendship  is :  for  none  is  true  but  that  which 
Thou  cementest  together  between  such  as  cleave 
unto  Thee,  through  that  love  which  is  shed  abroad  in 
our  hearts  by  t/ie  Holy  Ghost,  which  is  given  unto  us.1 
Yet  was  it  but  too  sweet,  ripened  by  the  warmth  of 
kindred  studies :  for,  from  the  true  faith  (which  he 
as  a  youth  had  not  soundly  and  thoroughly  imbibed) 
I  had  warped  him  also  to  those  superstitious  and 
pernicious  fables  for  which  my  mother  bewailed  me. 
"With  me  he  now  erred  in  mind,  nor  could  my  soul 
be  without  him.  But  behold  Thou  wert  close  on  the 

1  Rom.  v.  5. 


Jests  at  fiis  friend'1  s  baptism,  and.  is  reproved.    69 

steps  of  Thy  fugitives,  at  once  God  of  vengeance* 
and  Fountain  of  mercies,  turning  us  to  Thyself  by 
wonderful  means;  Thou  tookest  that  man  out  of 
this  life,  when  he  had  scarce  filled  up  one  whole  year 
of  my  friendship,  sweet  to  me  above  all  sweetness 
of  my  life. 

8.  Who  can  recount  all  Thy  praises?  which  Thou 
hast  deserved  in  reference  to  this  single  person  ? 
What  didst  Thou  then,  my  God,  and  how  unsearch- 
able is  the  abyss  of  Thy  judgments?3  For  long, 
sore  sick  of  a  fever,  he  lay  senseless  in  a  death- 
sweat  ;  and  his  recovery  being  despaired  of,  he  was 
baptized,  unconscious,  myself  meanwhile  little  re- 
garding, and  presuming  that  his  soul  would  retain 
rather  what  it  had  received  of  me,  not  what  was 
wrought  on  his  unconscious  body.  But  it  proved 
far  otherwise :  for  he  was  refreshed,  and  restored. 
Forthwith,  as  soon  as  I  could  speak  with  him  (and  I 
could,  so  soon  as  he  was  able,  for  I  never  left  him, 
and  we  hung  but  too  much  upon  each  other),  I 
essayed  to  jest  with  him,  as  though  he  would  jest 
with  me  at  the  baptism  which  he  had  received  when 
utterly  absent  in  mind  and  feeling,  but  had  now 
understood  that  he  had  received.  But  he  shrunk 
from  me,  as  from  an  enemy;  and  with  a  wonderful 
and  sudden  freedom  bade  me,  as  I  would  continue 
his  friend,  forbear  such  language  to  him.  I,  all 
astonished  and  amazed,  suppressed  all  my  emotions 
till  he  should  grow  well,  and  his  health  were  strong 
enough  for  me  to  deal  with  him  as  I  would.  But  he 

1  Ps.  xciv.  1.  2  Ps.  cvi.  2.  3  pg.  xxxvi.  2. 


70         God's  mercy  in  the  death  of  his  f fiend. 

was  taken  away  from  my  frenzy,  that  with  Thee 
he  might  be  preserved  for  my  comfort ;  a  few  days 
after,  in  my  absence,  he  was  attacked  again  by  the 
fever,  and  so  departed. 

9.  At  this  grief  my  heart  was  utterly  darkened ; 
and  whatever  I  beheld  was  death.  My  native  coun- 
try was  a  torment  to  me,  and  my  father's  house  a 
strange  unhappiness ;  and  whatever  I  had  shared 
with  him,  now  that  he  was  gone,  became  a  distract- 
ing torture.  Mine  eyes  sought  him  everywhere,  but 
found  him  not ;  and  I  hated  all  places  because  they 
held  him  not ;  nor  could  they  now  tell  me,  "  He  is 
coming,"  as  when  he  was  alive  and  absent.  I  became 
a  great  riddle  to  myself,  and  I  asked  my  soul,  why 
she  was  so  sac?,  and  why  she  disquieted  me  sorely  :v 
but  she  knew  not  what  to  answer  me.  And  if  I 
said  Trust  in  God,  she  very  rightly  obeyed  me  not ; 
because  that  most  dear  friend,  whom  she  had  lost, 
being  a  man,  was  both  truer  and  better,  than  that 
phantasm  she  was  bid  to  trust  in.  Only  tears  were 
sweet  to  me,  for  they  succeeded  my  friend  as  the 
solace  of  my  mind. 

V.  10.  And  now,  Lord,  these  things  are  passed  by, 
and  time  hath  assuaged  my  wound.  May  I  learn 
from  Thee,  who  art  Truth,  and  approach  the  ear  of 
my  heart  unto  Thy  mouth,  that  Thou  mayest  tell  me 
why  weeping  is  sweet  to  the  -miserable  ?  Hast 
Thou,  although  present  everywhere,  cast  away  our 
misery  far  from  Thee?  Thou  abidest  in  Thyself, 
but  we  are  tossed  about  in  divers  trials.  And  yet 

1  Ps.  xlii.  6. 


He  loathes  life  and  dreads  death.  71 

unless  we  mourn  in  Thine  ears,  we  should  have  no 
hope  left.  How  then  is  sweet  fruit  gathered  from 
the  bitterness  of  life,  from  groaning,  tears,  sighs,  and 
complaints?  Doth  this  sweeten  it,  that  we  hope 
Thou  hearest  ?  This  is  true  of  prayer,  for  therein  is 
a  longing  to  approach  unto  Thee.  But  was  it  so  in 
my  grief  for  my  friend  lost,  and  the  sorrow  where- 
with I  was  then  overwhelmed  ?  For  I  neither  hoped 
he  should  return  to  life,  nor  did  I  desire  this  with  my 
tears.  I  wept  and  grieved  because  I  was  miserable, 
and  had  lost  my  joy.  Or  is  weeping  bitter  when  we 
have  the  things  which  we  enjoy,  but  grows  pleasant 
when  we  lose  them  ? 

VI.  11.  But  why  speak  I  of  these  things?  for 
now  is  no  time  to  question,  but  to  confess  unto  Thee. 
Wretched  I  was ;  and  wretched  is  every  soul  bound 
by  friendship  to  perishable  things ;  he  is  torn  asun- 
der when  he  loses  them,  and  feels  the  wretchedness 
which  he  was  liable  to  ere  yet  he  lost  them.  So 
was  it  then  with  me  ;  I  wept  most  bitterly,  and  found 
my  repose  in  bitterness.  Thus  was  I  wretched,  but 
that  wretched  life  I  held  even  dearer  than  my  friend. 
For  though  I  would  willingly  have  changed  it,  yet 
was  I  more  unwilling  to  part  with  it,  than  with  him ; 
yea,  I  know  not  whether  I  would  have  parted  with 
it  even  for  him,  as  is  related  (if  not  feigned)  of  Py- 
lades  and  Orestes,  that  they  would  gladly  have  died 
for  each  other  or  together,  not  to  live  together  being 
to  them  worse  than  death.  But  in  me  there  had 
prison  some  inexplicable  feeling,  wholly  contrary  to 
this ;  for  at  once  I  loathed  exceedingly  to  live  and 


72  Misery  increased  by  distraction. 

feared  to  die.  I  suppose,  the  more  I  loved  him,  the 
more  did  I  hate  and  fear  (as  a  most  cruel  enemy) 
death,  which  had  bereaved  rne  of  him  :  and  I  imag- 
ined it  would  speedily  make  an  end  of  all  men,  since 
it  had  power  over  him.  Thus  was  it  with  me,  I  re- 
member. Behold  my  heart,  O  my  God  !  behold,  and 
see  into  me ;  for  well  I  remember  it,  O  my  Hope, 
who  cleansest  me  from  the  impurity  of  such  affec- 
tions, directing  mine  eyes  towards  Thee,  and  pluck- 
ing my  feet  out  of  the  'snare*  For  I  wondered  that 
others,  subject  to  death,  did  live,  since  he,  whom  I 
loved,  as  if  he  should  never  die,  was  dead ;  and  I 
wondered  yet  more  that  myself,  who  was  to  him  a 
second  self,  could  live,  he  being  dead.  Well  said 
one  concerning  his  friend,  "Thou  half  of  my  soul :" 
for  I  felt  that  my  soul  and  his  soul  were  "  one  soul 
in  two  bodies :  "  and  therefore  was  my  life  a  horror 
to  me,  because  I  would  not  live  halved.  And  there- 
fore, perchance  I  feared  to  die,  lest  he  whom  I  so 
much  loved  should  die  wholly.2 

VII.  12.  O  madness,  which  knows  not  how  to 
love  men  as  men !  O  foolish  man  that  I  then  was, 
suffering  so  impatiently  the  lot  of  man !  I  fretted, 
sighed,  wept,  was  distracted ;  found  neither  rest  nor 
counsel.  For  I  bore  about  a  shattered  and  bleeding 
soul,  impatient  of  being  borne  by  me,  yet  where  to 
repose  it,  I  found  not.  Not  in  calm  groves,  not  in 

1  Ps.  xxv.  14. 

2  Augustine  in  his  Retraetationes  (Liber  II.)  remarks  that  what  he  has 
said  here,  "  quasi  declamatio  levis  et  gravis  confessio  videtur.  quamvis 
utcuucjue  tcmperata  sit  haec  iucptia  iu  eo  quod  additutn  est,  forte. ''^ 
ED. 


Misery  increased  by  distraction.  73 

games  and  music,  nor  in  fragrant  spots,  nor  in  curi- 
ous bauquetings,  nor  in  the  pleasures  of  the  bed 
and  the  couch ;  nor  (finally)  in  books  or  poesy,  found 
it  repose.  All  things  looked  ghastly,  yea,  the  very 
light ;  whatsoever  was  not  what  he  was,  was  revolt- 
ing and  hateful,  except  groaning  and  tears ;  for  in 
those  alone  found  I  a  little  refreshment.  But  when 
my  soul  ceased  from  them,  a  huge  load  of  misery 
weighed  me  down.  To  Thee,  O  Lord,  it  ought  to 
have  been  raised,  for  Thee  to  lighten  ;  I  knew  it ; 
but  neither  could  nor  would,  since,  when  I  thought 
of  Thee,  Thou  wert  not  to  me  any  solid  or  substan- 
tial thing.  For  Thou  wert*not  Thyself,  but  a  mere 
phantom,  and  my  error  was  my  God.  If  I  offered  to 
discharge  my  load  thereon,  that  it  might  rest,  it 
glided  through  the  void,  and  came  rushing  down 
again  on  me ;  and  thus  I  was  to  myself  a  hapless 
spot,  where  I  could  neither  stay  nor  hence  depart. 
For  whither  could  my  heart  flee  from  my  heart? 
Whither  could  I  flee  from  myself?  How  not  follow 
myself?  And  yet  I  fled  out  of  my  native  country; 
for  so  should  mine  eyes  less  look  about  for  my  lost 
friend,  where  they  were  not  wont  to  see  him.  And 
thus  from  Tageste,  I  came  to  Carthage. 

VIII.  13.  Times  lose  no  time;  nor  do  they  roll 
idly  by ;  through  our  senses  they  work  strange  oper- 
ations on  the  mind.  Behold,  they  went  and  came 
day  by  day,  and  by  coming  and  going  introduced 
into  my  mind  other  imaginations,  and  other  remem- 
brances ;  and  little  by  little  patched  me  up  again 
with  my  old  land  of  delights,  unto  which  my  sorrow 


74   The  world  cures  grief  by  sources  of  fresh  grief. 

gave  way.  And  yet  there  succeeded,  not  indeed 
other  griefs,  but  the  causes  of  other  griefs.  For 
whence  had  that  former  grief  so  easily  reached  my 
very  inmost  soul,  but  that  I  had  poured  out  my  soul 
upon  the  dust,  in  loving  one  that  must  die,  as  if  he 
would  never  die  ?  For  what  restored  and  refreshed 
me  chiefly,  was  the  solaces  of  other  friends,  with 
whom  I  had  loved  him  instead  of  Thee ;  and  this 
was  a  great  fable,  and  protracted  lie,  by  whose  adul- 
terous stimulus  my  soul,  which  lay  itching  in  my 
ears,  was  defiled.  But  that  fable  would  not  die  to 
me,  so  oft  as  any  of  my  friends  died.  There  were 
other  things  which  in  them  did  more  take  my  mind ; 
to  talk  and  jest  together;  to  do  kind  offices  by  turns; 
to  read  together  honied  books ;  to  play  the  fool  or 
be  earnest  together;  to  dissent  at  times  without 
quarrelling,  as  a  man  might  with  his  own  self;  and 
even  with  the  unfrequency  of  these  dissentings,  to 
season  our  more  frequent  consentings ;  sometimes  to 
teach,  and  sometimes  learn ;  to  long  for  the  absent 
with  impatience,  and  welcome  the  coming  with  joy: 
these,  and  the  like  expressions,  proceeding  out  of  the 
hearts  of  those  that  loved  and  were  loved  again,  by 
the  countenance,  the  tongue,  the  eyes,  and  a  thou- 
sand pleasing  gestures,  were  so  much  fuel  to  melt 
our  souls  together,  and  out  of  many  make  but  one. 

IX.  14.  This  is  what  is  loved  in  friends;  and  so 
loved,  that  a  man's  conscience  condemns  itself,  if  he 
love  not  the  one  that  loves  him,  looking  for  nothing 

•  o  o 

from  him  but  demonstrations  of  his  love.  Hence 
that  mourning,  if  one  die,  that  darkening  of  sorrows, 


75 


that  steeping  of  the  heart  in  tears,  all  sweetness 
turned  to  bitterness  ;  and  upon  the  loss  of  the  dying, 
the  death  of  the  living.  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
loveth  Thee,  and  his  friend  in  Thee,  and  his  enemy 
for  Thee.  For  he  alone  loses  none  dear  to  him,  to 
whom  all  are  dear  in  Him  who  cannot  be  lost.  And 
who  is  this  but  our  God,  the  God  that  made  heaven 
and  earth)  and  filleth  them?  because  by  filling  them 
He  created  them  ?  None  loseth,  but  he  who  leaveth 
Thee.  And  who  leaveth  Thee,  whither  goeth  or 
whither  fleeth  he,  but  from  Thee  pleased  to  Thee 
displeased  ?  For  doth  he  not  find  Thy  law  in  his 
own  punishment?  And  Thy  law  is  truth,2  and 
truth  is  Thyself. 

X.  15.  Turn  ws,  0  God  of  Hosts,  show  us  Thy 
countenance,  and  we  shall  be  whole?  For  whitherso- 
ever the  soul  of  man  turns  itself,  unless  towards  Thee, 
it  is  fastened  upon  sorrows  ;  yea,  even  though  it  is 
fastened  on  things  beautiful,  which  are  out  of  Thee, 
and  out  of  the  soul,  and  yet  were  not  all,  unless 
they  were  from  Thee.  They  rise  and  set  ;  and  by 
rising,  they  begin,  as  it  were,  to  be  ;  they  grow,  that 
they  may  be  perfected  ;  and  perfected,  they  wax  old 
and  wither;  and  some  perish  without  waxing  old.  So 
then  when  they  rise  and  tend  to  be,  the  more  quickly 
they  grow  that  they  may  be,  so  much  the  more  they 
haste  not  to  be.  This  is  the  law  of  their  nature. 
Thus  much  hast  Thou  allotted  them,  because  they 
are  portions  of  things  which  exist  not  all  at  once,  but, 

1  Gen.  ii.  24  ;  Jer.  xxiii.  24.  3  Ts.  Ixxx.  19. 

2  Ps.  cxix.  142  ;  John  xiv.  6. 


76  Rest  only  in  the  Creator. 

by  passing  away  and  succeeding,  together  complete 
that  universe  whereof  they  are  portions;  even  as 
our  speech  is  completed  by  separate  vocal  signs ;  but 
not  unless  one  word  pass  away  when  it  hath  sounded 
its  part,  that  another  may  succeed.  Out  of  all  these 
things  let  my  soul  praise  Thee,  O  God,  Creator  of 
all;  yet  let  not  my  soul  be  fastened  unto  these 
things  with  the  glue  of  love,  through  the  senses  of 
the  body.  For  they  go  whither  they  were  meant  to 
go,  that  they  might  cease  to  be  ;  and  they  rend  the 
soul  with  pestilent  longings,  because  she  longs  to  be, 
yet  loves  to  repose  in  what  she  loves.  But  in  these 
things  is  no  place  of  repose ;  they  abide  not,  they 
flee ;  and  who  can  follow  them  with  the  senses  of 
the  flesh  ?  yea,  who  can  grasp  them,  when  they  are 
hard  by  ?  For  the  sense  of  the  flesh  is  slow,  because 
it  is  the  sense  of  the  flesh ;  and  by  the  flesh  is  it 
bounded.  It  sufficeth  for  the  end  that  it  was  made 
for ;  but  it  sufficeth  not  to  stay  things  from  running 
their  course  from  their  appointed  starting-place  to 
the  end  appointed.  For  in  Thy  Word,  by  which 
they  are  created,  they  hear  their  decree,  "  hence  and 
hitherto." 

XI.  16.  Be  not  foolish,  O  my  soul,  nor  become 
deaf  in  the  ear  of  thine  heart  with  the  tumult  of  thy 
folly.  Hearken  thou,  also.  The  Word  Itself  calleth 
thee  to  return  to  that  place  of  rest  imperturbable, 
where  love  is  not  forsaken,  if  itself  forsaketh  not  to 
love.  Behold,  some  things  pass  away,  that  others 
may  replace  them,  and  so  this  lower  universe  be 
completed  by  all  its  parts.  But  do  I  ever  depart  ? 


God  invites  us  by  the  changes  around  us.       77 

saith  the  "Word  of  God.  There  -fix  thy  dwelling, 
trust  there  whatsoever  thou  hast,  O  my  soul,  for  now 
thou  art  tired  out  with  vanities.  Entrust  to  Truth, 
whatsoever  thou  hast  from  the-  Truth,  and  thou  shalt 
lose  nothing ;  and  thy  decay  shall  bloom  again,  and 
all  thy  diseases  be  healed,1  and  thy  mortal  parts  be 
reformed  and  renewed,  and  bound  around  thee  :  nor 
shall  they  lay  thee  whither  themselves  descend  ;  but 
they  shall  stand  fast  with  thee,  and  abide  forever 
before  God,  who  abideth  and  standeth  fast  forever.2 

17.  "Why  then  be  perverted  and  follow  thy  flesh  ? 
Let  it  be  converted  and  follow  thee.  Whatever  by 
it  thou  hast  sense  of,  is  only  a  part ;  but  the  whole, 
whereof  this  is  a  part,  thou  knowest  not ;  and  yet 
the  mere  part  delights  thee.  But  had  the  sense  of 
thy  flesh  a  capacity  for  comprehending  the  whole, 
and  not  (for  thy  punishment)  a  part  only,  thou 
wouldest  wish  that  all  the  parts  should  pass  away, 
that  so,  the  whole  might  ravish  thee.  For  what  we 
speak  also,  by  the  same  sense  of  the  flesh  thou  hear- 
est ;  yet  wouldest  not  thou  have  the  syllables  stay, 
but  fly  away,  that  others  may  come,  and  thou  hear 
the  whole.  And  so  ever,  when  any  one  thing  is 
made  up  of  many,  all  of  which  do  not  exist  together, 
collectively  they  would  please  more  than  they  do 
severally,  could  all  be  perceived  collectively.  But 
better  still  than  the  collective  whole  is  He  who  made 
the  whole ;  He  is  our  God  ;  He  doth  not  pass  away, 
neither  doth  aught  succeed  Him. 

XII.   18.    If  bodies  please   thee,  praise   God  for 

l  Ps.  ciii.  3.  21  ret  i.  23. 


All  things  are  to  be  loved  in  God. 


them,  and  dart  back  thy  love  upon  their  Maker ;  lest 
in  these  things  which  please  thee,  thou  displease 
Him.  If  souls  please  thee,  love  them  in  God :  for 
separate  they  are  mutable,  but  in  Him  they  are 
firmly  stablished;  else  would  they  pass,  and  pass 
away.  In  Him  then  be  they  beloved;  and  carry 
unto  Him  along  with  thee  what  souls  thou  canst, 
and  say  to  them,  "  Him  let  us  love,  Him  let  us  love : 
He  made  all  things,  nor  is  He  far  off.  For  He  did 
not  make  them,  and  then  depart,  but  they  are  of 
Him,  and  in  Him.  See,  there  He  is  where  truth  is 
loved.  He  is  within  the  very  heart,  yet  hath  the 
heart  strayed  from  Him.  Go  back  into  your  heart^ 
ye  transgressors,  and  cleave  fast  to  Him  that  made 
you.  Stand  with  Him,  and  ye  shall  stand  fast.  Rest 
in  Him,  and  ye  shall  be  at  rest.  Whither  go  ye  in 
rough  ways  ?  Whither  go  ye  ?  The  good  that  you 
love  is  from  Him ;  but  it  is  good  and  pleasant  through 
reference  to  Him,  and  justly  shall  it  be  embittered,  if 
He  be  forsaken  for  it.  To  what  end  then  would  ye 
still  and  ever  walk  these  difficult  and  toilsome  ways  ? 
There  is  no  rest,  where  ye  seek  it.  Seek  still  what 
ye  seek ;  but  it  is  not  there  where  ye  seek.  Ye  seek 
a  blessed  life  in  the  land  of  death ;  it  is  not  there. 
For  how  should  there  be  a  blessed  life,  where  life 
itself  is  not?" 

19.  "But  our  true  Life  came  down  hither,  and 
bore  our  death,  and  slew  our  death,  out  of  the  abun^ 
dance  of  His  own  life :  and  He  thundered,  calling 
aloud  to  us  to  return  to  Him  into  the  secret  place, 
whence  He  came  forth  to*  us,  through  the  Virgin's 


Christ  humbled  that  ice  might  rise.  79 

womb,  wherein  He  espoused  the  human  creation,  our 
mortal  flesh,  that  it  might  not  be  forever  mortal,  and 
thence  like  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber, 
rejoicing  as  a  giant  to  run  his  course.1  For  he  lin- 
gered not,  but  ran,  calling  aloud  by  words,  deeds, 
death,  life,  descent,  ascension  ;  crying  aloud  to  us  to 
return  unto  Him.  And  he  departed  from  our  eyes, 
that  we  might  return  into  our  heart,  and  there  find 
Him.  For  He  departed,  and  lo !  He  is  here.  He 
would  not  remain  with  us,  yet  left  us  not ;  for  He 
departed  thither,  whence  He  never  parted,  because 
the  world  was  made  by  Him?  And  in  this  world  He 
was,  and  into  this  world  He  came  to  save-  sinners? 
unto  whom  my  soul  confesseth,  and  He  healeth  it,  for 
it  hath  sinned  against  Him*  O  ye  sons  of  men, 
how  long  so  slow  of  heart?*  Even  now,  after  the 
descent  of  life  to  you,  will  ye  not  ascend  and  live  ? 
But  whither  ascend  ye,  when  ye  are  high  in  your 
own  conceits,  and  set  your  mouth  against  the  heav- 
ens ?6  Descend,  that  ye  may  ascend,  and  ascend  to 
God.  For  ye  are  fallen,  by  rising  against  Him." 
Tell  thy  friends  this,  that  they  may  weep  in  the  val- 
ley of  tears,7  and  so  carry  them  up  with  thee  unto 
God ;  because  out  of  His  Spirit  thou  speakest  thus 
unto  them,  if  thou  speakest  burning  with  the  fire  of 
charity. 

XIII.  20.  These  things  I  then  knew  not,  and  I 
loved  these  lower  beauties,  and  I  was  sinking  to  the 
very  depths,  and  to  my  friends  I  said,  "  Do  we  love 


1  Ps.  xix.  5        31  Tim.  i.  15.       5  Ps.  hr.  3.  Vulg.       1  Ps.  Ixxxiv.  6. 

2  John  i.  10        4  Ps.  xli,  4.          6  Ps.  Ixxiii.  9. 


80  Augustine's  love  of  the  beautiful. 

anything  but  the  beautiful  ?  What,  then,  is  the  beau- 
tiful ?  and  what  is  beauty  ?  What,  then,  is  it  that 
attracts  and  wins  us  to  things  we  love  ?  for  unless 
there  were  in  them  a  grace  and  beauty,  they  could  by 
no  means  draw  us  unto  them."  And  I  marked  and 
perceived  in  bodies  themselves  there  was  a  beauty 
from  their  forming  a  sort  of  whole,  and  again,  another 
beauty  from  apt  and  mutual  correspondence,  as  of  a 
part  of  the  body  with  its  whole,  or  a  shoe  with  a 
foot,  and  the  like.  And  this  consideration  sprang  up 
in  my  mind,  out  of  my  inmost  heart,  and  I  wrote 
"  On  the  Fair  and  Fit,"  I  think,  two  or  three  books. 
Thou  knowest  how  many,  O  Lord,  for  it  is  gone  from 
me ;  for  I  have  them  not,  but  they  are  strayed  from 
me,  I  know  not  how. 

XIV.  21.  But  what  moved  me,  O  Lord  my  God, 
to  dedicate  these  books  unto  Hierius,  an  orator  of 
Rome,  whom  I  knew  not  by  face,  but  loved  for  the 
fame  of  his  learning,  which  was  eminent  in  him,  and 
some  words  of  his  I  had  heard,  which  pleased  me  ? 
But  he  pleased  me  chiefly  because  he  pleased  others, 
who  highly  extolled  him,  amazed  that  out  of  a  Syrian, 
first  instructed  in  Greek  eloquence,  should  afterwards 
be  formed  a  wonderful  Latin  orator,  and  learned  phi- 
losopher. One  is  commended,  and  straightway  he  is 
loved  without  being  seen :  doth  this  love  enter  the 
heart  of  the  hearer  from  the  mouth  of  the  corn- 
mender?  Not  so.  But  by  one  who  loveth  is  an- 
other kindled.  For  he  who  is  commended  is  loved 
because  the  commender  is  believed  to  extol  him  with 
an  unfeigned  heart ;  that  is,  because  one  that  loves 
him  praises  him. 


Marts  self-contradictions.  81 

22.  For  so  did  I  then  love  men,  upon  the  judgment 
of  men,  not  Thine,  O  my  God,  in  whom  no  man  is 
deceived.     But  yet  I  loved  men  not  for  qualities  like 
those  of  a  famous  charioteer,  or  lighter  with  beasts 
in  the  theatre,  known  far  and  wide  by  a  vulgar  popu- 
larity, but  far  otherwise,  and  earnestly,  and  so  as  I 
would  be  myself  commended.     For  I  would  not  be 
commended  or  loved,  as  actors  are  (though  I  myself 
did  commend  and  love  them),  but  had  rather  be  un- 
known, than  so  known ;   and   even   hated,  than  so 
loved.     How  are  the  impulses  to  such  various  and 
divers  kinds  of  loves  laid  up  in  one  soul  ?    WRy, 
since  we  are  equally  men,  do  I  love  in  another  what 
I  should  spurn  and  cast  from  myself?    For  it  holds 
not,  that  as  a  good  horse  is  loved  by  him  who  would 
not  be  that  horse,  therefore  the  same  may  be  said  of 
an  actor,  who  shares  our  nature.     Do  I  then  love  in  a 
man  what  I,  who  am  a  man,  hate  to  be  ?     Man  him- 
self is  a  great  deep,  whose  very  hairs  Thou  number- 
est,  O  Lord,  and  they  fall  not  to  the  ground  without 
Thee.1    And  yet  are  the  hairs  of  his  head  easier  to 
be  numbered  than  are  his  feelings,  and  the  beatings 
of  his  heart. 

23.  But  that  orator  was  of  that  sort  whom  I  loved, 
ns  wishing  to  be  myself  such ;  and  I  erred  through  a 
swelling  pride,  and  was  tossed  about  with  every  wind* 
but  yet  was  steered  by  Thee,  though  very  secretly. 
And  how  do  I  know,  and  so  confidently  confess  unto 
Thee,  that  I  loved  him  more  for  the  sake  of  his  corn- 
menders,  than  for  the  very  things  for  which  he  was 

1 1  Matt.  x.  29,  30.  2  Eph.  iv.  14. 


82  Man  sees  not  the  truth  before  him. 

commended  ?  Because,  had  he  been  unpraised,  and 
these  self-same  men  had  dispraised  him,  and  with 
dispraise  and  contempt  told  the  very  same  things  of 
him,  I  had  never  been  so  kindled  and  excited  to  love 
him.  And  yet  the  things  had  not  been  other,  nor  he 
himself  other ;  but  only  the  feelings  of  the  relators. 
See  where  the  impotent  soul  lies  prostrate,  that  is  not 
yet  stayed  up  by  the  solidity  of  truth  !  Just  as  the 
gales  of  tongues  blow  from  the  breast  of  the  opinion- 
ative,  so  are  we  carried  this  way  and  that,  driven 
forward  and  backward,  our  light  is  overclouded,  and 
the  truth  unseen.  And  lo,  the  truth  is  before  us.  It 
was  to  me  a  great  matter  that  my  discourse  and 
labors  should  be  known  to  that  man  :  which,  should 
he  approve,  I  were  the  more  kindled  ;  but  if  he  dis- 
approved, my  empty  heart,  void  of  Thy  solidity,  had 
been  wounded.  And  yet  the  "Fair  and  Fit,"  where- 
on I  wrote  to  him,  I  dwelt  on  with  pleasure,  and 
surveyed  it,  and  admired  it,  though  none  joined 
therein. 

XV.  24.  But  I  saw  not  yet,  whereon  this  weighty 
matter  turned  in  Thy  wisdom,  O  Thou  Omnipotent, 
who  only  doest  wonders;1  and  my  mind  ranged 
through  corporeal  forms  -,  and  "  fair,"  I  defined  and 
distinguished  as  so  in  itself,  and  "  fit,"  as  so  in  cor-  • 
respondence  to  some  other  thing :  and  this  I  sup- 
ported by  corporeal  examples.  And  I  turned  to  the 
nature  of  the  mind,  but  the  false  notion  which  I  had 
of  spiritual  things  let  me  not  see  the  truth.  Yet 
the  force  of  truth  did  of  itself  flash  into  mine  eyes, 

1  Ps.  cvi.  4. 


One  error  hinders  from  seeing  other  truth.  '   83 

* 

and  I  turned  away  my  panting  soul  from  incorporeal 
substance  to  lineaments,  and  colors,  and  bulky  mag- 
nitudes. And  not  being  able  to  see  these  in  the 
mind,  I  concluded  that  I  could  not  have  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  mind.  And  whereas  in  virtue  I  loved 
peace,  and  in  viciousness  I  abhorred  discord ;  in  the 
first  I  observed  an  unity,  but  in  the  other,  a  sort  of 
division.  And  in  that  unity,  I  conceived  the  rational 
soul,  and  the  nature  of  truth,  and  of  the  chief  good 
to  consist :  but  in  this  division  I  miserably  imagined 
there  to  be  some  unknown  substance  of  irrational 
« life,  and  the  nature  of  the  chief  evil,  which  should 
not  only  be  a  substance,  but  real  life  also,  and  yet 
not  derived  from  Thee,  O  my  God,  of  whom  are  all 
things.  And  yet  that  first  I  called  a  Monad,  as  it 
had  been  a  soul  without  sex  ;  but  the  latter  a  Duad, 
—  dividing  into  anger,  in  deeds  of  violence,  and  into 
lust,  in  deeds  of  flagitiousness ;  not  knowing  whereof 
I  spake.  For  I  had  not  known  or  learned  that  nei- 
ther was  evil  a  substance,  nor  our  soul  that  chief  and 
unchangeable  good. 

2").  For  as  deeds  of  violence  arise  if  that  emotion 
of  the  soul  be  corrupted  whence  vehement  action 
springs,  stirring  itself  insolently  and  unrulily;  and 
as  lusts  arise  if  that  affection  of  the  soul  is  ungov- 
erned  whereby  carnal  pleasures  are  drunk  in  :  so  do 
errors  and  false  opinions  defile  the  conversation  if 
the  reasonable  soul  itself  be  corrupted;  as  it  was 
then  in  me,  who  knew  not  that  the  soul  must  be 
enlightened  by  another  light,  that  it  may  be  partaker 
of  truth,  seeing  that  itself  is  not  that  essential  nature 


84       God  repels  proud,  though  earnest,  search. 

0 

of  truth.  For  Thou  shalt  light  my  candle,  0  Lord 
my  God,  Thou  shalt  enlighten  my  darkness:1  and  of 
Tliy  fulness  have  we  all  received,  for  TJiou  art  the 
true  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into 
the  world;*  for  in  Thee  there  is  no  variableness,  nei- 
ther shadow  of  change? 

26.  But  I  pressed  towards  Thee,  and  was  thrust 
from  Thee,  that  I  might  taste  of  death :  for  Thou 
resistest  the  proud*  But  what  prouder  than  for  me, 
with  a  strange  madness,  to  assert  myself  to  be  that 
by  nature  which  Thou  art  ?  For  whereas  I  was  sub- 
ject to  change  (so  much  being  manifest  to  me,  since 
my  very  desire  to  become  wise,  was  a  wish,  of  worse 
to  become  better),  yet  chose  I  rather  to  imagine 
Thee  subject  to  change,  than  myself  not  to  be  that 
which  Thou  art.  Therefore  I  was  repelled  by  Thee, 
and  Thou  resistedst  my  vain  stiffneckedness,  and  I 
imagined  corporeal  forms,  and  although  myself  flesh, 
I  accused  flesh ;  and  though  I  was  a  wind  that  pass- 
eth  away,  I  returned  not&  to  Thee,  but  I  passed  on 
and  on  to  things  which  have  no  being,  neither  in 
Thee,  nor  in  me,  nor  in  the  body.  Neither  were 
they  created  for  me  by  Thy  truth,  but  by  my  vanity 
devised  out  of  things  corporeal.  And  I  was  wont  to 
ask  Thy  faithful  little  ones,  my  fellow-citizens  (from 
whom,  unknown  to  myself,  I  stood  exiled),  I  was 
wont,  prating  and  foolishly,  to  ask  them,  "  Why  then 
doth  the  soul,  which  God  created,  err?"  But  I 
would  not  be  asked,  "Why,  then,  doth  God  err?" 

1  PB.  xviii.  28.  8  Jam.  i.  17.  «  Ps.  Ixxviii.  83. 

2  John  i.  16.  9.  41  Pet.  v-  5;  Jam.  iv.  0. 


Cfreat  quickness,  when  relied  upon,  a  hindrance.  85 

And  I  maintained  that  Thy  unchangeable  substance 
did  err  upon  constraint,  rather  than  confess  that  my 
changeable  substance  had  gone  astray  voluntarily, 
and  now,  in  punishment,  lay  in  error. 

27.  I  was  then  some  six  or  seven  and  twenty  years 
old  when  I  wrote  those  volumes ;  revolving  within 
me  corporeal  fictions,  buzzing  in  the  ears  of  my  heart, 
which  I  turned,  O  sweet  Truth,  to  thy  inward  melody, 
meditating  on  the  "  fair  and  fit,"  and  longing  to  stand 
and  heai'ken  to  Thee,  and  to  rejoice  greatly  at  the 
Bridegroom's  voice,1  but  could  not ;  for  by  the 
voices  of  mine  own  errors  I  was  hurried  abroad,  and 
through  the  weight  of  my  own  pride  I  was  sinking 
into  the  lowest  pit.  For  Thou  didst  not  make  me  to 
hear  joy  and  gladness,  nor  did  the  bones  exult  which, 
were  not  yet  humbled.2 

XVI.  28.  And  what  did  it  profit  me,  that  scarce 
twenty  years  old,  a  book  of  Aristotle,  which  they 
call  the  ten  Predicaments,3  falling  into  my  hands  (on 
whose  very  name  I  hung,  as  on  something  great  and 
divine,  whenever  my  rhetoric  master  of  Carthage, 
and  others,  accounted  learned,  mouthed  it  with 
cheeks  bursting  with  pride),  I  read  and  understood 
•it  unaided?  And  on  my  conferring  with  others, 
who  said  that  they  scarcely  understood  it  with  very 
able  tutors,  not  only  orally  explaining  it,  but  drawing 
many  things  in  sand,  they  could  tell  me  no  more  of 

1  John  ill.  29. 

2  Pa.  li.  8. 

S  All  the  relations  of  things  were  comprised  by  Aristotle  tinder  nine 
heads;  as  quantity,  quality,  etc.;  and  these,  with  the  "substance"  in 
which  all  inhere,  make  up  the  ten  Predicaments,  or  Categories. 


86     Piety,  not  knowledge,  or  talents,  enlightens. 

it  than  I  had  learned,  reading  it  by  myself.  And 
the  book  appeared  to  me  to  speak  very  clearly  of 
substances,  such  as  "  man,"  and  of  their  qualities,  as 
the  figure  of  a  man,  of  what  sort  it  is ;  and  stature, 
how  many  feet  high;  and  his  relationship,  whose 
brother  he  is ;  or  where  placed ;  or  when  born ;  or 
whether  he  stands  or  sits ;  or  be  shod  or  armed ;  or 
does,  or  suffers  anything ;  and  all  the  innumerable 
things  which  might  be  ranged  under  these  nine  Pre- 
dicaments, of  which  I  have  given  some  specimens, 
or  under  that  chief  Predicament  of  Substance. 

29.  "What  did  all  this  further  me,  seeing  it  even 
hindered  me  ?  for  imagining  all  being  to  be  compre- 
hended under  those  ten  Predicaments,  I  essayed  in 
such  wise  to  understand,  O  my  God,  Thy  wonderful 
and  unchangeable  Unity  also,  as  if  Thou  also  hadst 
been  subjected  to  Thine  own  greatness  or  beauty ;  so 
that  (as  in  bodies)  they  should  exist  in  Thee,  as  their 
subject :  whereas  Thou  Thyself  art  Thy  greatness 
and  beauty  ;  but  a  body  is  not  great  or  fair  in  that  it 
is  a  body,  seeing  that,  though  it  were  less  great  or 
fair,  it  should  notwithstanding  be  a  body.     But  it 
was  falsehood  which  I  conceived  concerning  Thee, 
not  truth ;  fictions  of  my  misery,  not  the  realities  of 
Thy  Blessedness.     For  Thou  hadst  commanded,  and 
it  was  done  in  me,  that  the  earth  should  bring  forth 
briers  and  thorns  to  me,  and  that  in  the  sweat  of  my 
brows  I  should  eat  my  breaJ. l 

30.  And  what  did  it  profit^  me,  that  all  the  books  I 
could  procure  of  the  so-called  liberal  arts,  I,  the  vile 

1  Gen.  iii.  18, 19. 


God  unchangeable,  man  may  return  unto  Him.  87 

• 

slave  of  vile  affections,  read  by  myself,  and  under- 
stood? And  I  delighted  in  them,  but  knew  not 
whence  came  all  that  was  true  or  certain  in  them. 
For  I  had  my  back  to  the  light,  and  my  face  to  the 
things  enlightened ;  whence  my  face,  with  which  I 
discerned  the  things  enlightened,  itself  was  not  en- 
lightened. Whatever  was  written,  either  on  rhet- 
oric, or  logic,  geometry,  music,  and  arithmetic,  I 
understood  by  myself  without  much  difficulty,  or 
any  instructor,  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord,  my  God ;  be- 
cause both  quickness  of  understanding,  and  acute- 
ness  in  discerning,  is  Thy  gift :  yet  did  I  not  give 
thanks  for  them  to  Thee.  So  then  it  served  not  to 
my  use,  but  rather  to  my  perdition,  since  I  went 
about  to  get  so  good  &  portion  of  my  substance  into 
my  own  keeping ;  and  I  kept  not  my  strength  for 
Thee,  but  wandered  from  Thee  into  afar  country,  to 
spend  it  upon  harlotries.1  For  what  profited  me 
good  abilities,  not  employed  to  good  uses  ?  For  I 
perceived  not  that  those  arts  were  attained  with 
great  difficulty,  even  by  the  studious  and  talented, 
until  I  attempted  to  explain  them  to  such ;  when  he 
most  excelled  in  them,  who  followed  me  altogether 
slowly. 

31.  But  what  did  this  profit  me,  imagining  that 
Thou,  O  Lord  God,  the  Truth,  wert  a  vast  and  bright 
body,  and  I  a  fragment  of  that  body  ?  Perverseness 
too  great !  But  such  was  I.  Nor  do  I  blush,  O  my 
God,  to  confess  to  Thee  Thy  mercies  towards  me, 
and  to  call  upon  Thee ;  I  wly>  blushed  not  then  to 

l  Luke  xv. ;  Ps.  Iviii.  10.    Vulg. 


88  All  things  known  to  God. 

profess  to  men  my  blasphemies,  and  to  bark  against 
Thee.  What  profited  me  then  my  nimble  wit  in 
those  sciences  and  all  those  most  knotty  volumes, 
unravelled  by  me,  without  aid  from  human  instruc- 
tion ;  seeing  I  erred  so  foully,  and  with  such  sacri- 
legious shamefulness,  in  the  doctrine  of  piety  ?  A 
far  slower  wit  was  more  profitable  to  Th-y  little  ones, 
since  they  departed  not  far  from  Thee,  that  in  the 
nest  of  Thy  Church  they  might  securely  be  fledged, 
and  nourish  the  wings  of  charity  by  the  food  of  a 
sound  faith.  O  Lord  our  God,  under  the  shadow  of 
Thy  wings  let  us  hope;1  protect  us,  and  carry  us. 
Thou  wilt  carry  us  both  when  little,  and  even  to 
hoary  hairs  wilt  Thou  carry  us;*  for  our  firmness, 
only  when  it  is  in  Thee,  is  firmness ;  but  when  it  is 
our  own,  it  is  infirmity.  Our  good  ever  lives  with 
Thee ;  from  which  when  we  turn  away,  we  are  per- 
verted. Let  us,  then,  O  Lord,  return  that  we  may 
not  be  overturned ;  because  with  Thee  good  lives 
without  any  decay,  for  Thou  art  good  ;  nor  need  we 
fear,  lest  there  be  no  place  whither  to  return,  because 
we  fell  from  it :  for  our  mansion,  —  Thy  eternity,  — 
fell  not  when  we  left  Thee. 

iPa.lxiii.  7.  2is.xlvi.4. 


THE  FIFTH  BOOK. 

AUGUSTINE'S  TWENTY-NINTH  YEAR  —  FAUSTUS,  A  SNARE  OF  BAT  AS 
TO  MANY,  MADE  AN  INSTRUMENT  OF  DELIVERANCE  TO  AUGU8TINK 
BY  SHOWING  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  THE  MANICHEE9  ON  THOSE  THINGg 
WHEREIN  THEY  PROFESSED  TO  HAVE  DIVINE  KNOWLEDGE  —  AUGUS- 
TINE GIVES  UP  ALL  THOUGHT  OF  GOING  FURTHER  AMONG  THE  MA- 
LICHEES —  IS  GUIDED  TO  ROME  AND  MILAN,  WHERE  HE  HEARS 
AMBROSE,  LEAVES  THE  MANICHEES,  AND  BECOMES  AGAIN  A  CATE- 
CHUMEN  IN  THE  CHUUCH  CATHOLIC. 

I.  1.  Accept,  O  Lord,  the  sacrifice  of  my  confes- 
sions from  the  ministry  of  my  tongue,  which  Thou 
hast  formed  and  stirred  up  to  confess  unto  Thy 
name.  Heal  Thou  all  my  bones,  and  let  them  say, 
0  Lord,  'who  is  like  unto  Thee?1  For  he  who 
confesses  to  Thee,  doth  not  teach  Thee  what  takes 
place  within  him  ;  seeing  a  closed  heart  shuts  not 
out  Thy  eye,  nor  can  man's  hardheartedness  thrust 
back  Thy  hand :  for  Thou  dissolvest  it  at  Thy  will 
in  pity  or  in  vengeance,  and  nothing  can  hide  itself 
from  Thy  heat.2  But  let  my  soul  praise  Thee,  that 
it  may  love  Thee ;  and  let  it  confess  Thy  own  mer- 
cies to  Thee,  that  it  may  praise  Thee.  Thy  whole 
creation  ceaseth  not,  nor  is  silent  in  Thy  praises ; 
neither  the  spirit  of  man,  with  voice  directed  unto 
Thoe,  nor  creation  animate  or  inanimate,  by  the 
voice  of  those  who  meditate  thereon :  that  so  our 

l  Ps  xxxv.  20.  2  p8.  xix.  6. 


90  All  things  known  to  God. 

souls  may  from  their  weariness  arise  towards  Thee, 
leaning  on  those  things  which  Thou  hast  created, 
and  passing  on  to  Thyself  who  madest  them  won- 
derfully; whereby  cometh  refreshment  and  true 
strength. 

II.  2.  Let  the-restless,  the  godless,  depart  and  flee 
from  Thee ;  yet  Thou  seest  them,  and  dividest  the 
darkness.  And  behold,  the  universe  with  them  is 
fair,  though  they  are  foul.  But  how  can  they  injure 
Thee?  or  how  disgrace  Thy  government,  which, 
from  the  heaven  to  this  lowest  earth,  is  just  and  per- 
fect ?  For  whither  fled  they,  when  they  fled  from 
Thy  presence?1  or  where  dost  not  Thou  find  them? 
They  fled,  that  they  might  not  see  Thee  looking  at 
them,  and  blinded,  might  stumble  against  Thee:2 
(because  Thou  for -sakest  nothing  Thou  hast  made  y8) 
that  the  unjust,  I  say,  might  stumble  upon  Thee,  and 
justly  be  hurt;  withdrawing  themselves  from  Thy 
gentleness,  and  stumbling  at  Thy  uprightness,  and 
falling  upon  their  own  ruggedness.  Ignorant,  in 
truth,  that  Thou  art  everywhere,  Whom  no  place 
encompasseth !  that  Thou  alone  art  near,  even  to 
those  that  remove  far  from  Thee.*  Let  them,  then, 
turn,  and  seek  Thee ;  because  not  as  they  have  for- 
saken their  Creator,  hast  Thou  forsaken  Thy  crea- 
tion. Let  them  be  turned  and  seek  Thee ;  for 
behold,  Thou  art  there  in  their  heart,  in  the  heart  of 
those  that  confess  to  Thee,  and  cast  themselves  upon 
Thee,  and  weep  in  Thy  bosom,  after  all  their  rugged 

1  Ps.  cxxxix.  7.  s  Wisd.  xi.  25,  old  vers. 

2  Gen.  xvi.  14.  *  Pe.  Ixxiii.  27. 


The  wicked  obey  not,  but  must  serve  God.       91 

ways.  Then  dost  Thou  gently  wipe  away  their  tears, 
and  they  weep  the  more,  and  joy  in  weeping ;  even 
for  that  Thou,  Lord,  —  not  man  of  flesh  and  blood, 
but  —  Thou,  Lord,  who  madest  them,  remakest  and. 
corafortest  them.  But  where  was  I  when  I  was 
seeking  Thee?  Thou  wert  before  me,  but  I  had 
gone  away  from  Thee ;  nor  did  I  find  myself,  how 
much  less  Thee! 

III.  3.  I  would  lay  open  before  my  God  that  nine- 
and-twentieth  year  of  mine  age.  There  had  then 
come  to  Carthage,  a  certain  Bishop  of  the  Manichees, 
Faustus  by  name,  a  great  snare  of  the  Devil,  and 
many  were  entangled  by  him  through  the  lure  of  his 
smooth  language  :  which,  though  I  did  commend, 
yet  could  I  separate  from  the  truth  of  the  things 
which  I  was  earnest  to  learn  :  nor  did  I  so  much 
regard  the  service  of  oratory,  as  the  science  which 
this  Faustus,  so  praised  among  them,  set  before  me 
to  feed  upon.  Fame  had  before  bespoken  him  most 
knowing  in  all  valuable  learning,  and  exquisitely 
skilled  in  the  liberal  sciences.  And  since  I  had  read 
and  well  remembered  much  of  the  philosophers,  I 
compared  some  things  of  theirs  with  those  long 
fables  of  the  Manichees,  and  found  the  former  the 
more  probable;  even  although  they  could  only  pre- 
vail so  far  as  to  make  judgment  of  this  lower  icorld, 
the  Lord  of  it  they  could  by  no  means  find  out.1 
For  Thou  art  great,  0  Lord,  and  hast  respect  unto 
the  humble,  but  the  proud  Thou  beholdest  afar  off? 
Nor  dost  Thou  draw  near,  but  to  the  contrite  in 

1  WSsd.  xiii.  9.  2  Ps.  cxxxviii.  6. 


92         Discoveries  of  science  lead  not  to  God. 

heart?  nor  art  found  by  the  proud,  no,  not  though 
by  curious  skill  they  could  number  the  stars  and 
the  sand,  and  measure  the  starry  heavens,  and  track 
the  courses  of  the  planets. 

4.  For  with  their  understanding  and  wit,  which 
Thou  bestowedst  on  them,  they  search  out  these 
things ;  and  much  have  they  found  out ;  and  foretold, 
many  years  before,  eclipses  of  those  luminaries,  the 
sun  and  moon,  —  what  day  and  hour,  and  how  many 
digits,  —  nor  did  their  calculation  fail,  but  it  came  to 
pass  as  they  foretold ;  and  they  wrote  down  the  ruLes 
they  had  found  out,  and  these  are  read  at  this  day, 
and  out  of  them  do  others  foretell  in  what  year,  and 
month  of  the  year,  and  what  day  of  the  month,  and 
what  hour  of  the  day,  and  what  part  of  its  light, 
moon  or  sun  is  to  be  eclipsed,  and  so  it  shall  be  as  it 
is  foreshowed.  At  these  things  men,  that  know  not 
this  art,  marvel  and  are  astonished,  and  they  that 
know  it,  exult,  and  are  puffed  up  ;  and  by  an  ungodly 
pride  departing  from  Thee,  and  failing  of  Thy  light, 
they  foresee  so  long  before,  a  failure  of  the  sun's 
light,  which  shall  be,  but  see  not  the  failure  of  their 
own,  which  now  is.  For  they  search  not  religiously 
to  know  whence  they  have  the  wit  wherewith  they 
search  out  this.  And  finding  that  Thou  madest 
them,  they  give  not  themselves  up  to  Thee,  to  pre- 
serve what  Thou  madest,  nor  sacrifice  to  Thee,  what 
they  have  made  themselves ;  nor  slay  their  own  soar- 
ing imaginations,  as  fowls  of  the  air,  nor  their  own 
diving  curiosities  (wherewith,  like  the  fishes  of  the 

l  Ps.  xxxiv.  18.  • 


We  must  sacrifice  self,  to  know  God.          93 

sea?  they  wander  over  the  unknown  paths  of  the 
abyss),  nor  their  own  luxuriousness,  as  beasts  of  the 
field,  that  Thou,  Lord,  a  consuming  fire?  mayest 
burn  up  those  dead  cares  of  theirs,  and  recreate 
themselves  immortally. 

5.  For  they  knew  not  the  Way,  Thy  "Word,3  by 
Whom  Thou  madest  these  things  which  they  num- 
ber, and  themselves  who  number,  and  the  sense 
whereby  they  perceive  what  they  number,  and  the 
understanding  out  of  which  they  number;  or  that 
of»  Thy  wisdom  there  is  no  number*  But  the  Only 
Begotten  is  Himself  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and 
righteousness,  and  sanctification?  and  was  numbered 
among  us,  and  paid  tribute  unto  Ccesar.6  They 
knew  not  this  Way  whereby  to  descend  to  Him 
from  themselves,  and  by  Him  ascend  unto  Him. 
They  knew  not  this  Way,  and  deemed  themselves 
exalted  among  the  stars  and  shining;  and  behold, 
they  fell  upon  the  earth,  and  their  foolish  heart  was 
darkened.7  They  discourse  many  things  truly  con- 
cerning the  creature;  but  Truth,  Artificer  of  the 
creature,  they  seek  not  piously,  and  therefore  find 
Him  not ;  or  if  they  find  Him,  knowing  Sim  to  be 
God,  they  glorify  Him  not  as  God,  neither  are 
thankful,  but  become  vain  in  their  imaginations,  and 
profess  themselves  to  be  tcise,s  attributing  to  them- 
selves what  is  Thine ;  and  thereby  with  most  per- 
verse blindness,  study  to  impute  to  Thee  what  is 

1  Ts.  viii.  7,  8.       *  Ps.  cxlvii.  5.        1  Is.  xiv.  13;  Rev.  xii.  4;  Eom.  1.21. 

2  Deut.  iv.  24-       «  1  Cor.  i.  30.  8  Eom.  i.  21. 

3  John  i.  3.  C  Matt.  xvii.  27. 

9 


94      Knowledge  of  God  the  greatest  happiness. 

their  own,  forging  lies  of  Thee  who  art  the  Truth, 
and  changing  the  glory  of  the  uncorruptible  God  into 
an  image  made  like  corruptible  man,  and  to  birds, 
and  four-footed  beasts,  and  creeping  things,  changing 
Thy  truth  into  a  lie,  and  worshipping  and  serving 
the  creature  more  than  the  Creator.1 

6.  Yet  many  truths  concerning  the  creature  learned 
I  from  these  men,  and  saw  the  reason  thereof  from 
calculations,  the  succession  of  times,  and  the  visible 
testimonies  of  the  stars ;  and  compared  them  with 
the  views  of  Manichaeus,  which  in  his  frenzy  he  had 
written  out  most  largely  on  these  subjects ;  but  I 
discovered  not  any  account  of  the  solstices,  or  equi- 
noxes, or  the  eclipses  of  the  greater  lights,  nor  what- 
ever of  this  sort  I  had  learned  in  the  books  of  secular 
philosophy.  But  I  was  commanded  to  believe ;  and 
yet  it  corresponded  not  with  what  had  been  estab- 
lished by  calculations  and  my  own  sight,  but  was 
quite  contrary. 

IV.  7.  Doth  then,  O  Lord  God  of  truth,  he  who 
knoweth  these  things,  therefore  please  Thee  ?  Surely 
unhappy  is  he  who  knoweth  all  these,  and  knoweth 
not  Thee:  but  happy  whoso  knoweth  Thee,  though 
he  know  not  these.  And  whoso  knoweth  both  Thee 
and  them,  is  not  the  happier  for  them,  but  for  Thee 
only,  if  knowing  TJiee,  he  glorifies  Thee  as  God,  and 
is  thankful,  and  becomes  not  vain  in  his  imagina- 
tions? For  as  he  is  better  off  who  knows  how  to 
possess  a  tree,  and  return  thanks  to  Thee  for  the  use 
thereof,  although  he  know  not  how  many  cubits  high 

1  Horn.  i.  23.  2  lloiu.  i.  21. 


Heretics  a  learning  to  the  faithful.  95 

it  is,  or  how  wide  it  spreads,  than  he  that  can  meas- 
ure it,  and  count  all  its  boughs,  and  neither  owns  it 
nor  knows  or  loves  its  Creator:  so  a  believer,  to 
whom  all  this  world  of  wealth  belongs  (since  having 
nothing,  he  yet  possesseth  all  things?  by  cleaving 
unto  Thee,  whom  all  things  serve),  though  he  know 
not  even  the  circles  of  the  Great  Bear,  is  doubtless 
in  a  better  state  than  one  who  can  measure  the  heav- 
ens and  number  the  stars,  and  poise  the  elements, 
yet  neglecteth  Thee  who  hast  made  all  things  in 
number,  weight  and  measure? 

V.  8.  But  yet  who  bade  that  unknown  Manichaeus 
to  write  on  these  things,  the  knowledge  of  which  is 
no  element  of  piety?  For  Thou  hast  said  to  man, 
Behold,  piety  and  wisdom  /3  of  which  he  might  be 
ignorant,  though  he  had  perfect  knowledge  of  these 
things.  But  since  ManichaBus  in  reality  knew  not 
these  things,  and  yet  most  impudently  dared  to  teach 
them,  he  plainly  could  have  no  knowledge  of  piety. 
For  it  is  vanity  to  make  profession  of  these  worldly 
things  even  when  known ;  but  confession  to  Thee  is 
piety.  Wherefore  this  errorist  to  this  end  spake 
much  of  these  things,  that  convicted  by  those  who 
had  truly  learned  them,  it  might  be  manifest  what 
understanding  he  had  in  the  other  abstruser  things. 
For  he  would  not  have  himself  meanly  thought  of, 
but  went  about  to  persuade  men,  "  That  the  Holy 
Ghost,  the  Comforter  and  Enricher  of  Thy  faithful 
ones,  was  with  plenary  authority  personally  within 
him."  When,  therefore,  he  was  found  out  to  have 

ICor.  vi.  10.  2Wisd.  xi.  20.  3  Job  xxviii.  28.    ULS. 


96 


taught  falsely  of  the  heaven  and  stars,  and  of  the 
motions  of  the  sun  and  moon  (although  these  things 
pertain  not  to  the  doctrine  of  religion),  his  sacri- 
legious presumption  became  evident  enough,  seeing 
he  delivered  things  which  not  only  he  knew  not,  but 
which  were  falsified,  with  so  mad  a  vanity  of  pride, 
that  he  sought  to  ascribe  them  to  himself,  as  to  a 
divine  person. 

9.  For  when  I  hear  any  Christian  brother  ignorant 
of  these  things,  and  mistaken  on  them,  I  can  patiently 
behold  such  a  man  holding  his  opinion ;  nor  do  I  see 
that  any  ignorance  as  to  the  position  or  character  of 
the  corporeal  creation  can  injure  him,  so  long  as  he 
doth  not  believe  anything  unworthy  of  Thee,  O 
Lord,  the  Creator  of  all.  But  it  doth  injure  him  if 
he  imagine  it  to  pertain  to  the  form  of  the  doctrine 
of  piety,  and  will  affirm  that  too  stiffly  whereof  he  is 
ignorant.  And  yet  is  even  such  an  infirmity,  in  the 
infancy  of  faith,  borne  by  our  mother  Charity,  till  the 
new-born  may  grow  up  unto  a  perfect  man>so  as  not 
to  be  carried  about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine* 
But  in  the  instance  of  him  who  in  such  wise  pre- 
sumed to  be  the  teacher,  source,  guide,  chief  of  all 
whom  he  could  so  persuade,  that  whoso  followed 
him  thought  that  he  followed  not  a  mere  man,  but 
Thy  Holy  Spirit;  who  would  not  judge  that  when 
he  were  once  convicted  of  having  taught  anything 
false,  he  were  to  be  detested  and  utterly  rejected? 
But  I  had  not  as  yet  clearly  ascertained  whether  the 
vicissitudes  of  longer  and  shorter  days  and  nights, 

1  Eph.  iv.  13, 14. 


suspected)  for  its  outward  garb.         .      97 

and  of  day  and  night  itself,  with  the  eclipses  of  the 
greater  lights,  and  whatever  else  of  the  kind  I  had 
read  of  in  other  books,  might  be  explained  consist- 
ently with  his  sayings ;  so  that,  if  they  by  any 
means  might  be,  it  should  still  remain  a  question  to 
me  whether  it  were  so  or  no ;  and  yet  I  might,  on 
account  of  his  reputed  sanctity,  rest  my  credence 
upon  his  authority. 

VI.  10.  And  for  almost  all  those  nine  years, 
wherein  with  unsettled  mind  J  had  been  their  disci- 
ple, I  had  longed  but  too  intensely  for  the  coming 
of  this  Faustus.  For  the  rest  of  the  sect,  whom  by 
chance  I  had  lighted  upon,  when  unable  to  solve  my 
objections  about  these  things,  still  held  out  to  me 
the  coming  of  this  Faustus,  by  conference  with 
whom,  these  and  greater  difficulties,  if  I  had  them, 
were  to  be  most  readily  and  abundantly  cleared. 
When,  then,  he  came,  I  found  him  a  man  of  pleasing 
discourse,  and  who  could  speak  fluently  and  in  better 
terms,  yet  still  but  the  self-same  things  which  they 
were  wont  to  say.  But  what  availed  the  utmost 
neatness  of  the  cup-bearer,  to  my  thirst  for  a  more 
precious  draught?  Mine  ears  were  already  cloyed 
with  the  like,  nor  did  they  seem  to  me  therefore 
better,  because  better  said ;  nor  therefore  true,  be- 
cause eloquent ;  nor  the  soul  therefore  wise,  because 
the  face  was  comely  and  the  language  graceful.  But 
they  who  held  him  out  to  me  were  no  good  judges 
of  things ;  and  therefore  to  them  he  appeared  intel- 
ligent and  wise,  because  his  words  were  pleasing.  I 
remembered,  however,  that  another  sort  of  people 


98  Faustiis*  superficiality,  how  disguised. 

were  suspicious  even  of  truth,  and  refused  to  assent 
to  it,  if  delivered  in  a  smooth  and  copious  discourse. 
But  Thou,  O  my  God,  hadst  already  taught  me  by 
wonderful  and  secret  ways ;  and  J  believe  that  Thou 
taughtest  me,  because  it  is  truth ;  nor  is  there,  besides 
Thee,  any  teacher  of  truth,  where  or  whencesoever 
it  may  shine  upon  us.  Of  Thyself,  therefore,  had  I 
now  learned  that  neither  ought  anything  to  seem  to 
be  spoken  truly,  because  eloquently;  nor  therefore 
falsely,  because  the  utterance  of  the  lips  is  inharmo- 
nious ;  nor,  agajn,  therefore  true,  because  rudely  de- 
livered ;  nor  therefore  false,  because  the  language  is 
rich ;  but  that  wisdom  and  folly  are  as  wholesome 
and  unwholesome  food ;  and  adorned  or  unadorned 
phrases,  as  courtly  or  country  vessels  :  either  kind  of 
meats  may  be  served  up  in  either  kind  of  dishes. 

11.  That  longing,  then,  wherewith  I  had  so  long 
expected  that  man,  was  delighted  verily  with  his 
action  and  feeling  when  disputing,  and  his  choice 
and  readiness  of  words  to  clothe  his  ideas.  I  was 
delighted,  and,  with  many  others  and  more  than 
they,  did  I  praise  and  extol  him.  It  troubled  me, 
however,  that  in  the  assembly  of  his  auditors,  I  was 
not  allowed  to  put  in,  and  communicate  those  ques- 
tions that  troubled  me,  in  familiar  converse  with 
him.  Which,  when  I  might,  and  with  my  friends 
began  to  engage  his  ears  at  such  times  as  it  was  not 
unbecoming  for  him  to  discuss  with  me,  and  had 
brought  forward  such  things  as  moved  me,  I  found 
him  first  utterly  ignorant  of  liberal  sciences,  save 
grammar,  and  that  but  in  an  ordinary  way.  But 


Fanstus*  siqierfidality,  how  disguised.          99 

because  he  had  read  some  of  Tully's  Orations,  a  very 
few  books  of  Seneca,  some  things  of  the  poets,  and 
such  few  volumes  of  his  own  sect  as  were  written  in 
Latin  and  neatly,  and  was  daily  practised  in  speak- 
ing, he  acquired  a  certain  eloquence,  which  proved 
the  more  pleasing  and  seductive  because  under  the 
guidance  of  a  good  wit,  and  with  a  kind  of  natural 
gracefulness.  Was  it  not  thus,  as  I  recall  it,  0  Lord 
my  God,  Thou  Judge  of  my  conscience  ?  My  heart 
and  my  remembrance  is  before  Thee,  Who  didst  at 
that  time  direct  me  by  the  hidden  mystery  of  Thy 
providence,  and  didst  set  those  shameful  errors  of 
mine  before  my  face,  that  I  might  see  and  hate 
them.1 

VII.  12.  For,  after  it  Was  clear  that  he  was  igno- 
rant of  those  arts  in  which  I  thought  he  excelled,  I 
began  to  despair  of  his  opening  and  solving  the  diffi- 
culties which  perplexed  me  (of  which,  indeed,  how- 
ever ignorant,  he  might  yet  have  held  the  truths  of 
piety,  had  he  not  been  a  Manichee) ;  for  their  books 
are  fraught  with  prolix  fables  of  the  heaven,  and 
stars,  sun  and  moon  ;  and  I  now  no  longer  thought 
him  able  satisfactorily  to  decide  what  I  much  desired, 
whether,  on  comparison  of  these  things  with  the  cal- 
culations I  had  elsewhere  read,  the  account  given»in 
the  books  of  ManichaBus  were  preferable,  or  at  least 
as  good.  Which,  when  I  proposed  to  be  considered 
and  discussed,  he,  so  far  modestly,  shrunk  from  the 
burthen.  For  he  knew  that  he  knew  not  these 
things,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  confess  it.  For  he 

1  Ps.  1.  21. 


100       Snares  to  others  disentangle  Augustine. 

was  not  one  of  those  talking  persons,  many  of  whom 
I  had  endured,  who  undertook  to  teach  me  these 
things,  and  said  nothing.  But  this  man  had  a  heart, 
though  not  right  towards  Thee,  yet  neither  alto- 
gether treacherous  to  himself.  For  he  was  not  al- 
together ignorant  of  his  own  ignorance,  nor  would 
he  rashly  be  entangled  in  a  dispute,  whence  he  could 
neither  retreat,  nor  extricate  himself  fairly.  Even 
for  this  I  liked  him  the  better.  For  fairer  is  the 
modesty  of  a  candid  mind,  than  the  knowledge  of 
those  things  which  I  desired  ;  and  such  I  found  him 
in  all  the  more  difficult  and  subtile  questions. 

13.  My  zeal  for  the  writings  of  Manicha3us  being 
thus  blunted,  and  despairing  yet  more  of  their  other 
teachers,  seeing  that  in  divers  things  which  perplexed 
me,  he,  so  renowned  among  them,  had  so  turned  out ; 
I  began  to  engage  with  him  in  the  study  of  that  lit- 
erature, on  which  he  also  was  much  set  (and  which 
as  rhetoric-reader  I  was  at  that  time  teaching  young 
students  at  Carthage),  and  to  read  with  him,  either 
what  himself  desired  to  hear,  or  such  as  I  judged  fit 
for  his  genius.  But  all  my  efforts  whereby  I  had 
purposed  to  advance  in  that  sect,  upon  knowledge 
of  that  man,  came  utterly  to  an  end ;  not  that  I 
detached  myself  from  them  altogether,  but  as  one 
finding  nothing  better,  I  had  settled  to  be  content 
meanwhile  with  what  I  had  in  whatever  way  fallen 
upon,  unless  by  chance  something  more  eligible 
should  dawn  upon  me.  Thus  Faustus,  to  so  many  a 
snare  of  death,  had  now,  neither  willing  nor  witting 
it,  begun  to  loosen  that  wherein  I  was  taken.  For 


Augustine  led  to  Home,  for  his  salvation.     101 

Thy  hands,  O  my  God,  in  the  secret  purpose  of  Thy 
providence,  did  not  forsake  my  soul ;  and  out  of  my 
mother's  heart's  blood,  through  her  tears  night  and 
day  poured  out,  was  a  sacrifice  offered  for  me  unto 
Thee ;  and  Thou  didst  deal  with  me  by  wondrous 
ways.1  Thou  didst  it,  O  my  God :  for  the  steps  of  a 
man  are  ordered  by  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  dispose 
his  way?  Or  how  shall  we  obtain  salvation,  but 
from  Thy  hand,  remaking  what  It  made  ? 

VIII.  14.  It  was  Thy  doing,  O  Lord,  that  I  should 
be  persuaded  to  go  to  Rome,  and  to  teach  there 
what  I  was  teaching  at  Carthage.  And  how  I  was 
persuaded  to  this,  I  will  not  neglect  to  confess  to 
Thee :  because  herein  also  the  deepest  recesses  of 
Thy  wisdom,  and  Thy  most  present  mercy  to  us, 
must  be  considered  and  confessed.  I  did  not  wish 
to  go  to  Koine,  because  higher  gains  and  higher 
dignities  were  wan-anted  me  by  my  friends  who 
persuaded  me  to  this  (though  even  these  things  had 
at  that  time  an  influence  over  my  mind) ;  but  my 
chief  and  almost  only  reason  was,  that  I  heard  that 
young  men  studied  there  more  peacefully,  and  were 
kept  quiet  under  a  restraint  of  more  regular  disci- 
pline ;  so  that  they  did  not,  at  their  pleasure,  petu- 
lantly rush  into  the  school  of  one  whose  pupils  they 
were  not,  nor  were  even  admitted  without  his  per- 
mission. Whereas,  at  Carthage,  there  reigns  among 
the  scholars  a  most  disgraceful  and  unruly  license. 
They  burst  in  audaciously,  and,  with  gestures  almost 
frantic,  disturb  all  order  which  any  one  hath  estab- 

l  Joel  ii.  26.  2  Pg.  xxxvii.  23. 


102  Others'  vanities  and  his  own. 

lished  for  the  good  of  his  scholars.  Divers  outrages 
they  commit,  with  a  wonderful  stolidity,  punishable 
by  law,  did  not  custom  uphold  them ;  that  custom 
evincing  them  to  be  the  more  miserable,  in  that  they 
now  do  as  lawful  what  by  Thy  eternal  law  shall  never 
be  lawful ;  and  they  think  they  do  it  unpunished, 
whereas  they  are  punished  with  the  very  blindness 
whereby  they  do  it,  and  suffer  incomparably  worse 
than  what  they  do.  The  manners,  then,  which,  when 
a  student,  I  would  not  make  my  own,  I  was  fain,  as 
a  teacher,  to  endure  in  others :  and  so  I  was  well 
pleased  to  go  where  all  that  knew  assured  me  that 
the  like  was  not  done.  But  Thou,  my  refuge  and 
my  portion  in  the  land  of  the  living?  that  I  might 
change  my  earthly  dwelling  for  the  salvation  of  my 
soul,  at  Carthage  didst  goad  me,  that  I  might  thereby 
be  torn  from  it ;  and  at  Rome  didst  proffer  me  allure- 
ments, whereby  I  might  be  drawn  thither,  by  men  in 
love  with  a  dying  life :  the  one  class  doing  frantic, 
the  other  promising  vain,  things  ;  and,  to  correct  my 
steps,  didst  secretly  use  their  and  my  own  perverse- 
ness.  For  both  they  who  disturbed  my  quiet  were 
blinded  with  a  disgraceful  frenzy,  and  they  who  in- 
vited me  elsewhere,  savored  of  earth.  And  I,  who 
here  detested  real  misery,  went  there  seeking  unreal 
happiness. 

15.  But  why  I  went  hence,  and  went  thither, 
Thou  knowest,  O  God,  yet  showedst  it  neither  to 
me  nor  to  my  mother,  who  grievously  bewailed  my 
journey,  and  followed  me  as  far  as  the  sea.  But  I 

1  Pa  cxlii.  5. 


His  mother's  prayers  heard,  though  denied.    103 

deceived  her,  as  she  held  me  by  force,  that  either  she 
might  keep  me  back,  or  go  with  me ;  and  I  feigned 
that  I  had  a  friend  whom  I  could  not  leave,  till  he 
had  a  fair  wind  to  sail.  And  I  lied  to  my  mother, 
and  to  such  a  mother,  and  escaped.  For  this  also 
hast  Thou  mercifully  forgiven  me,  preserving  me, 
thus  full  of  execrable  defilements,  from  the  waters 
of  the  sea,  for  the  water  of  Thy  Grace ;  whereby, 
when  I  was  cleansed,  the  streams  of  my  mother's 
eyes  should  be  dried,  with  which  for  me  she  daily 
watered  the  ground  under  her  face.  And  yet  refus- 
ing to  return  without  me,  I  scarcely  persuaded  her 
to  stay  that  night  in  a  place  hard  by  our  ship,  where 
was  an  Oratory  in  memory  of  the  blessed  Cyprian. 
That  night  I  privily  departed,  but  she  remained 
weeping  and  in  prayer.  And  what,  O  Lord,  was  she 
with  so  many  tears  asking  of  Thee,  but  that  Thou 
wonldest  not  suffer  me  to  sail  ?  But  Thou,  in  the 
depth  of  Thy  counsels  and  hearing  the  main  point 
of  her  desire,  regardest  not  what  she  then  asked, 
that  Thou  mightest  make  me  what  she  ever  asked. 
The*  wind  blew  and  swelled  our  sails,  and  withdrew 
the  shore  from  our  sight;  and  she  on  the  morrow 
was  there,  frantic  with  sorrow,  and  with  complaints 
and  groans  filled  Thine  ears,  who  didst  then  disre- 
gard them ;  whilst  through  my  desires,  Thou  wert 
hurrying  me  to  end  all  desire,  and  the  earthly  part 
of  her  affection  to  me  was  chastened  by  the  allotted 
scourge  of  sorrows.  For  she  loved  to  have  me  with 
her,  as  mothers  do,  but  much  more  than  most;  and 
she  knew  not  how  great  joy  Thou  wert  about  to 


104  His  apathy  in  dangerous  illness. 

work  for  her  out  of  my  absence.  She  knew  not ; 
therefore  did  she  weep  and  wail,  and  by  this  agony 
there  appeared  in  her  the  inheritance  of  Eve,  with 
sorrow  seeking  what  in  sorrow  she  had  brought  forth. 
And  yet,  after  accusing  my  treachery  and  hardheart- 
edness,  she  betook  herself  again  to  intercede  to  Thee 
for  me,  went  to  her  wonted  place,  and  I  to  Rome. 

IX.  16.  And  lo !  there  was  I  received  by  the 
scourge  of  bodily  sickness,  and  I  was  going  down  to 
hell,  carrying  all  the  sins  which  I  had  committed, 
both  against  Thee,  and  myself,  and  others,  many  and 
grievous,  over  and  above  that  bond  of  original  sin, 
whereby  we  all  die  in  Adam.1  For  Thou  hadst  not 
forgiven  me  any  of  these  things  in  Christ,  nor  had 
He  abolished  by  His.  cross  the  enmity  which  by  my 
sins  I  had  incurred  by  Thee.  For  how  could  He,  by 
the  crucifixion  of  a  phantasm,  which  I  believed  Him 
to  be?  Thus  the  death  of  my  soul  was  as  real  as 
the  death  of  His  flesh  seemed  to  me  false ;  and  as 
real  as  was  the  death  of  His  body,  so  false  was  the 
life  of  my  soul,  which  did  not  believe  it.  And  now, 
the  fever  heightening,  I  was  parting  and  departing 
forever.  For  had  I  then  parted  hence,  whither  had 
I  departed,  but  into  fire  and  torments,  such  as  my 
misdeeds  deserved  in  the  truth  of  Thy  appointment  ? 
And  this  my  mother  knew  not,  yet  in  absence  prayed 
for  me.  But  Thou,  everywhere  present,  heardest  her 
where  she  was,  and,  where  I  was,  hadst  compassion 
upon  me;  that  I  should  recover  the  health  of  my 
body,  though  frenzied  as  yet  in  my  sacrilegious  heart. 

l  1  Cor.  xv.  22. 


Monica? 's  devotions  and  visions.  105 

For  I  did  not  iu  all  that  danger  desire  Thy  baptism ; 
and  I  was  better  as  a  boy,  when  I  begged  it  of  my 
mother's  piety,  as  I  have  before  recited  and  con- 
fessed. But  I  had  grown  up  to  my  own  shame,  and 
I  madly  scoffed  at  the  prescripts  of  Thy  medicine, 
yet  wouldest  Thou  not  suffer  me,  being  such,  to  die 
a  double  death.  With  which  Wound  had  my  mo- 
.ther's  heart  been  pierced,  it  could  never  be  healed. 
For  I  cannot  express  the  affection  she  bare  to  me, 
and  with  how  much  more  vehement  anguish  she 
was  now  in  labor  of  me  in  the  spirit,  than  at  her 
childbearing  in  the  flesh.1 

17.  I  see  not  then  how  she  should  have  been 
healed,  had  such  a  death  of  mine  stricken  through 
the  bowels  of  her  love.  And  where,  then,  would 
have  been  her  so  strong  and  unceasing  prayers  ? 
But  wouldest  Thou,  O  God  of  mercies,  despise  the 
contrite  and  humbled  heart2  of  that  chaste  and  sober 
widow,  so  frequent  in  almsdeeds,  so  full  of  duty  and 
service  to  Thy  saints,  no  day  intermitting  the  oblation 
at  Thine  altar,  twice  a  day,  morning  and  evening, 
without  any  intermission,  coming  to  Thy  church,  not 
for  idle  tattlings  and  old  wives' fables,3  but  that  she 
might  hear  Thee  in  Thy  discourses,  and  Thou  her,  in 
her  prayers?  Couldest  Thou  despise  and  reject  from 
Thy  aid  the  tears  of  such  an  one,  wherewith  she 
begged  of  Thee  not  gold  or  silver,  nor  any  mutable 
or  passing  good,  but  the  salvation  of  her  son's  soul  ? 
Thou,  by  whose  gift  she  was  such  ?  Never,  Lord. 
Yea,  Thou  wert  at  hand,  and  wert  hearing  and  doing, 

l  Gal.  iv.  9.  2  rs.  li.  51.  3  l  Tim.  v.  10. 


106          Augustine  continues  a  Manichee. 

in  that  order  wherein  Thou  hadst  determined  before, 
that  it  should  be  done.  Far  be  it  that  Thou  should- 
est  deceive  her  in  Thy  visions  and  answers,  some 
whereof  I  have,  some  I  have  not  mentioned,  which 
she  laid  up  in  her  faithful  heart,  and  ever  praying, 
urged  upon  Thee,  as  Thine  own  handwriting.  For 
Thou,  because  Thy  mercy  endureth  forever^  vouch- 
safest  to  those  to  whom  Thou  forgivest  all  their 
debts,  to  become  also  a  debtor  by  Thy  promises. 

X.  18.  Thou  recoveredst  me  then,  of  that  sickness, 
and  healedst  the  son  of  Thy  handmaid,  for  the  time, 
.  in  body,  that  he  might  live,  for  Thee  to  bestow  upon 
him  a  better  and  more  abiding  health.  And  even 
then,  at  Rome,  I  joined  myself  to  those  deceiving 
and  deceived  "  holy  ones ; "  not  with  their  disciples 
only  (of  which  number  was  he  in  whose  house  I  had 
fallen  sick  and  recovered) ;  but  also  with  those  whom 
they  call  <<  The  Elect."  For  I  still  thought,  « that  it 
was  not  we  that  sin,  but  that  I  know  not  what  other 
nature  sinned  in  us;"  and  it  delighted  my  pride  to 
be  free  from  blame,  and  when  I  had  done  any  evil, 
not  to  confess  I  had  done  any,  that  Thou  mightest 
heal  my  soul  because  it  had  sinned  against  Thee:1 
but  I  loved  to  excuse  it,  and  to  accuse  I  know  not 
what  other  thing,  which  was  with  me,  but  which  I 
was  not.  But  in  truth  it  was  wholly  I,  and  mine 
impiety  had  divided  me  against  myself:  and  that  sin 
was  the  more  incurable,  whereby  I  did  not  judge 
myself  a  sinner :  and  execrable  iniquity  it  was,  that 
I  had  rather  have  Thee,  Thee,  O  God  Almighty,  to 

l  Ps.  xli.  4. 


Risk  of  scepticism  in  parting  from  error.    107 

be  overcome  in  me  to  my  destruction,  than  myself 
to  be  overcome  of  Thee  to  salvation.  Not  as  yet 
then  hadst  Thou  set  a  watch  before  my  mouth,  and  a 
door  of  safe  keeping  around  my  lips,  that  my  heart 
might  not  turn  aside  to  wicked  speeches,  to  make 
excuses  of  si?is,  with  men  that  work  iniquity :  and 
therefore  was  I  still  united  with  their  Elect.1 

19.  But  now  despairing  to  make  proficiency  in  that 
false  doctrine,  even  those  things,  with  which,  if  I 
should  find  no  better,  I  had  resolved  to  rest  con- 
tented, I  now  held  more  laxly  and  carelessly.  For 
there  half  arose  a  thought  in  me,  that  those  philoso- 
phers, whom  they  call  Academics,  were  wiser  than 
the  rest,  for  that  they  held,  men  ought  to  doubt 
everything,  and  laid  down  that  no  truth  can  be  com- 
prehended by  man :  for  so,  not  then  understanding 
even  their  meaning,  I  also  was  clearly  convinced  that 
they  thought  as  they  are  commonly  reported.  Yet 
did  I  freely  and  openly  discourage  that  host  of  mine 
from  that  over-confidence  which  I  perceived  him  to 
have  in  those  fables,  which  the  books  of  Manichaeus 
are  full  of.  Yet  I  lived  in  more  familiar  friendship 
with  them  than  with  others  who  were  not  of  this 
heresy.  Nor  did  I  maintain  it  with  my  ancient 
eagerness ;  still  my  intimacy  with  that  sect  (Rome 
secretly  harboring  many  of  them)  made  me  slower 
to  seek  any  other  way :  especially  since  I  despaired 
of  finding  the  truth,  from  which  they  had  turned  me 
aside,  in  Thy  Church,  O  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
Creator  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible:  and  it 

1  Ps.  <ydi.  3,  4.    VuJg. 


108  One  wrong  doctrine 

seemed  to  me  very  unseemly  to  believe  Thee  to  have 
the  shape  of  human  flesh,  and  to  be  bounded  by  the 
bodily  lineaments  of  our  members.  And  because, 
when  I  wished  to  think  on  my  God,  I  knew  not  what 
to  think  of,  but  a  mass  of  bodies  (for  what  was  not 
such  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  anything),  this  was 
the  greatest,  and  almost  only  cause  of  my  inevitable 
error. 

20.  For  hence  I  believed  Evil  also  to  be  some  kind 
of  substance,  and  to  have  its  own  foul  and  hideous 
bulk ;  whether  gross,  which  they  called  earth,  or  thin 
and  subtile  (like  the  body  of  the  air),  which  they 
imagine  to  be  some  malignant  mind  creeping  through 
that  earth.  And  because  a  piety,  such  as  it  was, 
constrained  me  to  believe,  that  the  good  God  never 
created  any  evil  nnture,  I  conceived  two  masses,  con- 
trary to  one  another,  both  unbounded,  but  the  evil 
narrower,  the  good  more  expansive.  And  from  this 
pestilent  beginning,  the  other  sacrilegious  conceits 
followed  on  me.  For  when  my  mind  endeavored  to 
recur  to  the  Catholic  faith,  I  was  driven  back,  since 
that  was  not  the  Catholic  faith,  which  I  thought  to 
be  so.  And  I  seemed  to  myself  more  reverential,  if 
I  regarded  Thee,  my  God  (to  whom  Thy  mercies 
confess  out  of  my  mouth),  as  unbounded  at  least  on 
all  other  sides  (although  on  that  one  where  the  mass 
of  evil  was  opposed  to  Thee  I  was  constrained  to 
confess  Thee  bounded),  than  if  on  all  sides  I  should 
iiffajjine  Thee  to  be  bounded  bv  the  form  of  a  human 

O  * 

body.  And  it  seemed  to  me  better  to  believe  Thee 
to  have  created  no  evil  (which  to  me  in  my  igno- 


the  par  en  t  of  others.  109 

ranee  seemed  not  only  a  substance,  but  a  bodily 
substance,  because  I  could  not  conceive  of  mind  un- 
less as  a  subtile  body,  and  that  diffused  in  definite 
spaces),  than  to  believe  that  the  nature  of  evil,  such 
as  I  conceived  it,  could  come  from  Thee.  Yea,  and 
our  Saviour  Himself,  Thy  Only  Begotten,  I  believed 
to  have  been  reached  forth  (as  it  were)  for  our  sal- 
vation, out  of  the  mass  of  Thy  most  lucid  substance, 
so  as  to  believe  nothing  of  Him  but  what  I  could 
image  in  my  vanity.  His  Nature,  then,  being  such, 
I  thought  could  not  be  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
without  being  mingled  with  the  flesh  :  and  how  that 
which  I  had  so  figured  to  myself  could  be  mingled, 
and  not  defiled,  I  saw  not.  I  feared  therefore  to  be- 
lieve Him  born  in  the  flesh,  lest  I  should  be  forced  to 
believe  Him  defiled  by  the  flesh.  Now  will  Thy 
spiritual  ones  mildly  and  lovingly  smile  upon  me, 
if  they  shall  read  these  my  confessions.  Yet  such 
was  I. 

XI.  21.  Furthermore,  what  the  Manichees  had 
criticized  in  Thy  Scriptures,  I  thought  could  not  be 
defended  ;  yet  at  times  verily  I  had  a  wish  to  confer 
upon  these  several  points  with  some  one  very  well 
skilled  in  those  books,  and  to  make  trial  what  he 
thought  thereon ;  for  the  words  of  one  Helpidius,  as 
he  ^poke  and  disputed  face  to  face  against  the  said 
Manichees,  had  begun  to  stir  me  even  at  Carthage  : 
in  that  he  had  produced  things  out  of  the  Scriptures 
not  easily  withstood,  the  Manichees'  answer  whereto 
seemed  to  me  weak.  And  this  answer  they  liked 
not  to  give  publicly,  but  only  to  us  in  private.  It 

10 


110          Manichees  and  Scripture  opposed. 

was,  that  the  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  had 
been  corrupted  by  certain  ones,  I  know  not  whom, 
who  wished  to  engraft  the  law  of  the  Jews  upon  the 
Christian  faith :  yet  themselves  produced  not  any 
uncorrupted  copies.  But  I,  conceiving  of  things 
corporeal  only,  was  strongly  held  down,  vehemently 
oppressed,  and,  in  a  manner,  suffocated,  by  those 
"masses;"  panting  under  which  after  the  breath  of 
Thy  truth,  I  could  not  breathe  it  pure  and  untainted. 
XII.  22.  I  began  then  diligently  to  practise  that 
for  which  I  came  to  Rome,  to  teach  rhetoric ;  and 
first,  to  gather  some  to  my  house,  to  whom,  and 
through  whom,  I  had  begun  to  be  known ;  when  lo ! 
I  found  other  offences  committed  in  Rome,  to  which 
I  was  not  exposed  in  Africa.  True,  those  "  subvert- 
ings  "  by  profligate  young  men,1  were  not  here  prac- 
tised, as  was  told  me :  but  on  a  sudden,  said  they,  to 
avoid  paying  their  master's  stipend,  a  number  of 
youths  plot  together,  and  remove  to  another, — 
breakers  of  faith,  who  for  love  of  money  hold  justice 
cheap.  These  also  my  heart  hated,  though  not  with 
a  perfect  hatred:*  for  perchance  I  hated  them  more 
because  I  was  to  suffer  by  them,  than  because  they 
did  things  utterly  unlawful.  Of  a  truth,  such  are 
base  persons,  and  they  go  a  whoring  from  Thee,  lov- 
ing these  fleeting  mockeries  of  things  temporal,\nd 
filthy  lucre,  which  fouls  the  hand  that  grasps  it; 
hugging  the  fleeting  world,  and  despising  Thee,  who 
abidest,  and  recallest,  and  forgivest  the  adulteress 
soul  of  man,  when  she  returns  to  Thee.  And  now  I 

1  Supra,  p.  46.  2  Ts.  cxxxix.  22. 


Sources  of  Ambrose's  influence-  111 

hate  such  depraved  and  crooked  persons,  though  I 
love  them  if  they  can  be  corrected  so  as  to  prefer  to 
money  the  learning  which  they  acquire,  and  to  learn- 
ing, Thee,  O  God,  the  truth  and  fulness  of  assured 
good,  and  most  pure  peace.  But  then,  I  rather  for 
my  own  sake  disliked  them,  and  wished  them  evil, 
than  liked  and  wished  them  good  for  Thine. 

XIII.  23.  When,  therefore,  they  of  Milan  had  sent 
to  Rome,  to  the  prefect  of  the  city,  to  furnish  them 
with  a  rhetoric  reader  for  their  city,  and  send  him  at 
the  public  expense,  I  made  application  (through 
those  very  persons,  intoxicated  with  Manichaean  van- 
ities, to  be  freed  wherefrom  I  was  to  go,  neither  of 
us,  however,  knowing  it)  that  Symmachus,  then  pre- 
fect of  the  city,  would  try  me  by  setting  me  some 
subject,  and  so  send  me.  To  Milan  I  came,  to  Am- 
brose the  Bishop,  known  to  the  whole  world  as 
among  the  best  of  men,  Thy  devout  servant ;  whose 
eloquent  discourse  did  then  plentifully  dispense  unto 
Thy  people  the  fatness  of  Thy  wheat,  the  gladness 
of  Thy  oil,  and  the  sober  inebriation  of  Thy  wine.1 
To  him  was  I  unconsciously  led  by  Thee,  that  by  him 
I  might  consciously  be  led  to  Thee.  That  man  of 
God  received  me  as  a  father,  and  showed  me  an 
episcopal  kindness  on  my  coming.  Thenceforth  I 
began  to  love  him,  at  first  indeed  not  as  a  teacher 
of  the  truth  (which  I  utterly  despaired  of  in  Thy 
Church),  but  as  a  person  kind  towards  myself.  And 
I  listened  diligently  to  him.  preaching  to  the  people, 
not  with  the  intent  I  ought,  but,  as  it  were,  trying 

i  Ps.  iv.  7;  civ.  16. 


112  Augustine's  perplexed  notions. 

his  eloquence,  whether  it  answered  the  fame  thereof 
or  flowed  fuller  or  lower  than  was  reported ;  and  I 
hung  on  his  words  attentively ;  but  of  the  matter  I 
was  as  a  careless  and  scornful  looker-on ;  and  I  was 
delighted  with  the  sweetness  of  his  discourse,  more 
recondite,  yet  in  manner  less  winning  and  harmoni- 
ous, than  that  of  Faustus.  Of  the  matter,  however, 
there  was  no  comparison  ;  for  the  one  was  wandering 
amid  Manichsean  delusions,  the  other  teaching  salva- 
tion most  soundly.  But  salvation  is  far  from  sin- 
ners,1 such  as  I  then  stood  before  him ;  and  yet  was 
I  drawing  nearer  by  little  and  little,  and  uncon- 
sciously. 

XIV.  24.  For  though  I  took  no  pains  to  learn 
what  he  spake,  but  only  to  hear  how  he  spake  (for 
that  empty  interest  in  style  alone  was  left  me,  de- 
spairing of  a  wayy  open  for  man,  to  Thee) ;  yet 
together  with  the  words  which  I  would  choose,  came 
also  into  my  mind  the  things  which  I  would  refuse ; 
for  I  could  not  separate  them.  And  while  I  opened 
my  heart  to  admit  "  how  eloquently  he  spake,"  there 
also  entered  "  how  truly  he  spake  ;"  but  this  by  de- 
grees. For  first,  the  things  spoken  by  Ambrose 
began  now  to  appear  to  me  capable  of  defence ;  and 
the  Catholic  faith,  for  which  I  had  thought  nothing 
could  be  said  against  the  Manichees'  objections,  I 
now  thought  might  be  maintained  without  shame- 
lessness;  especially  after  I  had  heard  one  or  two 
places  of  the  Old  Testament  resolved,  and  ofttimes 
"in  a  figure"*  which  when  I  understood  only  accord- 

l  Ts.  cxix.  156.  8  ICor.  xiii.  12;  2  Cor.  iii.  6. 


Augiistinds  perplexed  notions.  113 

ing  to  the  letter,  I  was  slain.  Very  many  places 
then  of  those  books  having  been  explained,  I  now 
blamed  my  despair,  in  believing  that  no  answer 
could  be  given  to  such  as  hated  and  scoffed  at  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets.  Yet  did  I  not  therefore 
then  see,  that  the  Catholic  way  was  to  be  held,  be- 
cause it  also  could  find  learned  maintainers,  who 
could  at  large  and  with  some  show  of  reason  answer 
objections;  nor  that  what  I  held  was  therefore  to 
be  condemned,  because  both  sides  could  be  main- 
tained. For  the  Catholic  cause  seemed  to  me  in 
such  sort  not  vanquished,  as  still  not  as  yet  to  be 
victorious. 

25.  Hereupon  I  earnestly  bent  my  mind,  to  see  if 
in  any  way  I  could  by  any  certain  proof  convict  the 
Manichees  of  falsehood.  Could  I  once  have  con- 
ceived a  spiritual  substance,  all  their  strongholds 
had  been  beaten  down,  and  cast  utterly  out  of 
mind  ;  but  I  could  not.  Notwithstanding,  concern- 
ing the  frame  of  this  world,  and  the  whole  of  na- 
ture, which  the  senses  of  the  flesh  can  reach  to,  as  I 
more  and  more  considered  and  compared  things,  I 
judged  the  tenets  of  most  of  the  philosophers  to 
have  been  much  more  probable.  So,  then,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Academics  (as  they  are  supposed) 1 
doubting  everything,  and  wavering  between  all,  I 
settled  so  far,  that  the  Manichees  were  to  be  aban- 
doned ;  judging  that,  even  while  doubting,  I  ought 
not  to  continue  in  that  sect  to  which  I  already  pre- 
ferred some  of  the  philosophers ;  to  which  philoso- 

1  Compare  Augustine's  De  Civitate  Dei,  Lib.  XIX.  c.  i.  —  ED. 


114  lie  returns  to  the  Church. 

pliers,  notwithstanding,  for  that  they  were  without 
the  saving  Name  of  Christ,  I  utterly  refused  to  com- 
mit the  cure  of  my  sick  soul.  I  determined  there- 
fore to  be  a  Catechumen  in  the  Catholic  Church,  to 
which  I  had  been  commended  by  my  parents,  until 
something  certain  should  dawn  upon  rue,  whither  I 
might  steer  my  course. 


THE   SIXTH  BOOK. 


ARRIVAL  OP  MONICA  AT  MILAN  —  HER  OBEDIENCE  TO  AMBROSE,  AND 
HIS  REGARD  FOR  HER  —  AMBROSE'S  HABITS — AUGUSTINE'S  GRAD- 
UAL ABANDONMENT  OF  ERROR — FINDS  THAT  HE  HAS  BLAMED  THB 
CATHOLIC  CHURCH  WRONGLY  —  DESIRE  OF  ABSOLUTE  CERTAINTY", 
BUT  STRUCK  WITH  THE  CONTRARY  ANALOGY  OF  GOD'S  NATURAL 
PROVIDENCE — HOW  SHAKEN  IN  HIB  WORLDLY  PURSUITS — GOD'S 
GUIDANCE  OF  HIS  FRIEND  ALYPIUS  —  AUGUSTINE  DEBATES  WITH 
HIMSELF  AND  HIS  FRIENDS  ABOUT  THEIR  MODE  Off  LIKE  —  HIS  IN- 
VETERATE SINS,  AND  DREAD  OF  JUDGMENT. 


I.  I.  0  Thou,  my  hope  from  my  youth?  where 
wert  Thou  to  me,  and  whither  wert  Thou  gone? 
Hadst  not  Thou  created  me,  and  separated  me  from 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  fowls  of  the  air  ?  Thou 
hadst  made  me  wiser,  yet  did  I  walk  in  darkness, 
and  in  slippery  places,  and  sought  Thee  abroad  out 
of  myself,  and  found  not  the  God  of  my  heart ;  and 
had  come  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,  and  distrusted 
and  depaired  of  ever  finding  truth.  My  mother  had 
now  come  to  me,  resolute  through  piety,  following 
me  over  sea  and  land,  in  all  perils  confiding  in  Thee. 
For  in  perils  of  the  sea,  she  comforted  the  very  mar- 
iners (by  whom  passengers  unacquainted  with  the 
deep,  used  rather  to  be  comforted  when  troubled), 
'  assuring  them  of  a  safe  arrival,  because  Thou  hadst 

1  Ts.  Ixxi.  6. 


116  Monica? s  hopes  of  her  son. 

by  a  vision  assured  her  thereof.  She  found  me  in 
grievous  peril,  through  despair  of  ever  finding  truth. 
But  when  I  had  discovered  to  her  that  I  was  now 
no  longer  a  Manichee,  though  not  yet  a  Catholic 
Christian,  she  was  not  overjoyed,  as  at  something 
unexpected ;  although  she  was  now  relieved  concern- 
ing a  part  of  my  misery,  for  which  she  bewailed  me 
as  one  dead,  though  to  be  reawakened  by  Thee.  I 
was  carried  forth,  therefore,  upon  the  bier  of  her 
thoughts,  that  Thou  mightest  say  to  the  son  of  the 
widow,  Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  Arise  ;  and  he 
should  revive,  and  begin  to  speak,  and  thou  shouldest 
deliver  him  to  his  mother*  Her  heart  then  was 
shaken  with  no  tumultuous  exultation,  when  she 
heard  that  what  she  daily  with  tears  -desired  of 
Thee,  was  already  in  so  great  part  realized ;  in  that, 
though  I  had  not  yet  attained  the  truth,  I  was  res- 
cued from  falsehood;  but,  as  being  assured  that 
Thou,  who  hadst  promised  the  whole,  wouldest  one 
day  give  the  rest,  more  calmly,  and  with  an  heart 
full  of  confidence,  she  replied  to  me,  "  She  believed 
in  Christ,  that  before  she  departed  this  life,  she 
should  see  me  a  Catholic  believer."  Thus  much  to 
me.  But  to  Thee,  Fountain  of  mercies,  poured  she 
forth  more  copious  prayers  and  tears,  that  Thou 
wouldest  hasten  Thy  help,  and  enlighten  my  dark- 
ness; and  she  hastened  the  more  eagerly  to  the 
Church,  and  hung  upon  the  lips  of  Ambrose,  praying 
for  the  fountain  of  that  water,  which  springeth  up 
unto  life  everlasting?  But  that  man  she  loved  as  an 

l  Luke  vii.  14, 15.  2  John  iv.  14. 


Her  obedience  to  Ambrose.  117 

angel  of  God,  because  she  knew  that  by  him  I  had 
been  brought  for  the  present  to  that  doubtful  state 
of  faith  I  now  was  in,  through  which  she  anticipated 
most  confidently  that  I  should  pass  from  sickness 
unto  health,  after  the  access,  as  it  were,  of  a  sharper 
fit,  which  physicians  call  "  the  crisis." 

II.  2.  When  then  my  mother  had  once,  as  she  was 
wont  in  Africa,  brought  to  the  churches  built  in 
memory  of  the  saints,  certain  cakes,  and  bread  and 
wine,  and  was  forbidden  by  the  door-keeper ;  so  soon 
as  she  knew  the  bishop  had  forbidden  this,  she  so 
piously  and  obediently  embraced  his  wishes,  that  I 
myself  wondered  how  readily  she  censured  her  own 
practice,  rather  than  discuss  his  prohibition.1  For 
wine-bibbing  did  not  lay  siege  to  her  spirit,  nor  did 
love  of  wine  provoke  her  to  hatred  of  the  truth,  as 
it  doth  too  many  (both  men  and  women),  who  revolt 
at  a  lesson  of  sobriety,  as  men  well-drunk  at  a 
draught  mingled  with  water.  But  she,  when  she  had 
brought  her  basket  of  festival-food,  to  be  but  tasted 
by  herself,  and  then  given  away,  never  joined  there- 
with more  than  one  small  cup  of  wine,  diluted  ac- 
cording to  her  own  abstemious  habits,  which  for 
courtesy  she  would  taste.  And  if  there  were  many 
churches  of  the  departed  saints,  that  were  to  be 
honored  in  that  manner,  she  still  carried  round  that 
same  one  cup,  to  be  used  everywhere;  and  this, 
though  not  only  made  very  watery,  but  unpleasantly 
heated  by  carrying  about,  she  would  distribute  to 
those  about  her  by  small  sips ;  for  she  sought  there 

1  Compare  Augustini  Epistolae  xxii.,  xxix.  —  ED. 


118  Her  obedience  to  Ambrose. 

devotion,  not  pleasure.  So  soon,  then,  as  she  found 
this  custom  to  be  forbidden  by  that  famous  preacher, 
and  most  pious  prelate,  even  to  those  that  would  use 
it  soberly,  lest  so  an  occasion  of  excess  might  be 
given  to  the  drunken,  —  and  furthermore,  because 
these,  as  it  were,  anniversary  funeral  solemnities  did 
much  resemble  the  superstition  of  the  Gentiles,  — 
she  most  willingly  forbare  it :  and  in  the  place  of  a 
basket  filled  with  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  she  learned 
to  bring  to  the  churches  of  the  martyrs  a  breast 
filled  with  more  purified  petitions,  and  to  give  what 
she  could  to  the  poor ;  that  so  the  communication  of 
the  Lord's  Body  might  be  rightly  celebrated  in  the 
places  where,  after  the  example  of  His  Passion,  the 
martyrs  had  been  sacrificed  and  crowned.  But  yet 
it  seems  to  me,  O  Lord  my  God,  and  thus  thinks  my 
heart  of  it  in  Thy  sight,  that  perhaps  she  would  not 
so  readily  have  yielded  to  the  cutting  off  of  this  cus- 
tom, had  it  been  forbidden  by  another  whom  she 
loved  not  as  Ambrose,  whom,  for  my  salvation,  she 
loved  most  entirely  ;  and  he  loved  her  again,  for  her 
most  religious  conversation,  whereby  in  good  works, 
so  fervent  in  spirit,  she  was  constant  at  church  ;  so 
that,  when  he  saw  me,  he  often  burst  forth  in  her 
praise,  congratulating  me  that  I  had  such  a  mother; 
not  knowing  what  a  son  she  had  in  me,  who  doubted 
of  all  these  things,  and  imagined  the  way  to  life  could 
not  be  found  out. 

III.  3.  Nor  did  I  yet  groan  in  my  prayers,  that 
Thou  wonkiest  help  me ;  but  my  spirit  was  wholly 
intent  on  learning,  and  restless  to  dispute.  And 


Ambrose's  mode  of  life.  119 

Ambrose  himself,  as  the  world  counts  happy,  I  es- 
teemed a  happy  man,  whom  personages  so  great  held 
in  such  honor ;  only  his  celibacy  seemed  to  me  a 
painful  course.  But  what  hope  he  bore  within  him, 
what  struggles  he  had  against  the  temptations  which 
beset  his  very  excellencies,  or  what  comfort  in  adver- 
sity, and  what  sweet  joys  Thy  Bread  had  for  the 
hidden  mouth  of  his  spirit,  when  chewing  the  cud 
thereof,  I  neither  could  conjecture,  nor  had  experi- 
enced. Nor  did  he  know  the  tides  of  my  feelings, 
or  the  abyss  of  my  danger.  For  I  could  not  ask  of 
him  what  I  would  as  I  would,  being  shut  out  both 
from  his  ear  and  speech  by  multitudes  of  busy  peo- 
ple, whose  weaknesses  he  served.  With  whom, 
when  he  was  not  taken  up  (which  was  but  a  little 
time),  he  was  either  refreshing  his  body  with  the 
sustenance  absolutely  necessary,  or  his  mind  with 
reading.  But  when  he  was  reading,  his  eye  glided 
over  the  pages,  and  his  heart  searched  out  the  sense, 
but  his  voice  and  tongue  were  at  rest.  Ofttimes 
when  we  had  come  (for  no  man  was  forbidden  to 
enter,  nor  was  it  his  wont  that  any  who  came  should 
be  announced  to  him),  we  saw  him.  thus  reading  to 
himself,  and  never  otherwise ;  and  having  long  sat 
silent  (for  who  durst  intrude  on  one  so  intent  ?)  we 
were  fain  to  depart,  conjecturing,  that  in  the  sm:ill 
interval,  which  he  obtained,  free  from  the  din  of 
others'  business,  for  the  recruiting  of  his  mind,  he 
was  loath  to  be  taken  off;  and  perchance  he  feared 
lest  if  the  author  he  read  should  deliver  anything 
obscurely,  some  attentive  or  perplexed  hearer  should 


120  Ambrose's  mode  of  life. 

desire  him  to  expound  it,  or  to  discuss  some  of  the 
harder  questions ;  so  that  his  time  being  thus  spent, 
he  could  not  turn  over  so  many  volumes  as  he 
desired;  although  the  preserving  of  his  voice  (which 
a  very  little  speaking  would  weaken),  might  be  the 
truer  reason  for  his  reading  to  himself.  But  with 
what  intent  soever  he  did  it,  certainly  in  such  a  man 
it  was  good. 

4.  I,  however,  had  no  opportunity  of  inquiring 
what  I  wished  of  that  so  holy  oracle  of  Thine, 
his  breast,  unless  the  thing  might  be  answered 
briefly.  But  those  tides  in  me,  to  be  poured  out 
to  him,  required  his  full  leisure,  and  never  found 
it.  I  heard  him  indeed  every  Lord's  day,  rightly  ex- 
pounding the  Word  of  truth,1  among  the  people; 
and  I  was  more  and  more  convinced,  that  all  the 
knots  of  those  crafty  calumnies,  which  those  our 
deceivers  had  knit  against  the  Divine  Books,  could 
be  unravelled.  But  when  I  understood  withal,  that 
the  wrords,  "  man,  created  by  Thee,  after  Thine  oicn 
image"  were  not  so  understood  by  Thy  spiritual 
sons,  whom  of  the  Catholic  Mother  Thou  hast  regen- 
erated through  grace,  as  though  they  believed  and 
conceived  of  Thee  as  bounded  by  human  shape ; 
(although  what  a  spiritual  substance  should  be  I  had 
not  even  a  faint  or  shadowy  notion)  ;  yet,  with  joy  I 
blushed  at  having  so  many  years  barked  not  against 
the  Catholic  faith,  but  against  the  fictions  of  carnal 
imaginations.  For  so  rash  and  impious  had  I  been, 
that  what  I  ought  by  inquiring  to  have  learned,  I 

1  2  Tim.  ii.  15. 


Augustine's  notions  of  the  Catholic  faith.     121 

had  ignorantly  pronounced  upon,  condemning.  For 
Thou,  Most  High,  and  most  near,  most  secret,  and 
most  present,  Who  hast  not  limbs  some  larger,  some 
smaller,  but  art  wholly  everywhere,  and  nowhere  in 
space,  art  not  of  corporeal  shape,  yet  hast  Thou  made 
man  after  Thine  own  image  ;  and  behold,  from  head 
to  foot  is  he  contained  in  space. 

IV.  5.  Being  ignorant  then  how  this  Thy  image 
should  subsist,  I  should  have  knocked  and  proposed 
the  question,  how  it  was  to  be  believed,  and  not  in- 
sultingly opposed  it,  as  if  believed.  Doubt,  then,  as 
to  what  to  hold  for  certain,  the  more  sharply  gnawed 
my  heart,  the  more  ashamed  I  was,  that  so  long  de- 
luded and  deceived  by  the  promise  of  certainties,  I 
had  with  childish  error  and  vehemence,  prated  of  so 
many  uncertainties.  For  that  they  were  falsehoods, 
became  clear  to  me  later.  However,  I  was  certain 
that  they  were  uncertain,  and  that  I  had  formerly 
accounted  them  certain,  when  with  a  .blind  conten- 
tiousness, I  accused  Thy  Catholic  Church,  whom  I 
now  discovered,  not  indeed  as  yet  to  teach  truly,  but 
at  least  not  to  teach  that  for  which  I  had  grievously 
censured  her.  So  I  was  confounded,  and  converted : 
and  I  joyed,  O  my  God,  that  the  One  Only  Church, 
the  body  of  Thine  Only  Son  (wherein  the  name  of 
Christ  had  been  put  upon  me  as  an  infant),  had  no 
taste  for  infantine  conceits ;  nor  in  her  sound  doc- 
trines maintained  any  tenet  which  should  confine 
Thee,  the  Creator  of  all,  in  space,  however  great  and 
large,  yet  bounded  everywhere  by  the  limits  of  a 
human  form. 


122  Process  whereby  Augustine 

6.  I  joyed  also  that  the  old  Scriptures  of  the  law 
and  the  prophets  were  laid  before  me,  not  now  to  be 
perused  with  that  eye  to  which  before  they  seemed 
absurd,  when  I  reviled  Thy  holy  ones  for  so  thinking, 
whereas  indeed  they  thought  not  so  :  and  with  joy  I 
heard  Ambrose,  in  his  sermons  to  the  people,  often- 
times most  diligently  recommend  this  text  for  a  rule, 
The  letter  killeth,  but  the  Spirit  giveth  life;^  whilst 
he  drew  aside  the  mystic  veil,  laying  open  spiritually 
what,  according  to  the  letter,  seemed  to  teach  some- 
thing unsound ;  teaching  herein  nothing  that  of- 
fended me,  though  he  taught  what  I  knew  not  as  yet 
whether  it  were  true.  For  I  kept  my  heart  from 
assenting  to  anything,  fearing  to  fall  headlong ;  but 
by  hanging  in  suspense  I  was  the  worse  killed.  For  I 
wished  to  be  as  assured  of  the  things  I  saw  not,  as  I 
was  that  seven  and  three  are  ten.  For  I  was  not  so 
mad  as  to  think  that  even  this  could  not  be  compre- 
hended ;  but  I  desired  to  have  other  things  as  clear 
as  this,  whether  things  corporeal,  which  were  not 
present  to  my  senses,  or  spiritual,  whereof  I  knew 
not  how  to  conceive,  except  corporeally.  By  believ- 
ing I  might  have  been  cured,  and  the  eyesight  of  my 
soul  being  cleared,  might  have  been  directed  to  Thy 
truth,  which  abideth  always,  and  in  no  part  faileth. 
But  as  he  who  has  tried  a  bad  physician,  fears  to 
trust  himself  with  a  good  one,  so  was  it  with  the 
health  of  my  soul,  which  could  not  be  healed  but  by 
believing,  and  lest  it  should  believe  falsehoods,  re- 
fused to  be  cured ;  resisting  Thy  hands,  who  hast 

l  2  Cor.  iii.  6. 


came  to  believe  the  Scriptures.  123 

prepared  the  medicines  of  faith,  and  hast  applied 
them  to  the  diseases  of  the  whole  world,  and  given 
unto  them  so  great  authority. 

V.  7.  Being  led,  however,  from  this  to  prefer  the 
Catholic  doctrine,  I  felt  that  her  proceeding  was 
more  unassuming  and  honest,  in  that  she  required 
belief  in  things  not  demonstrated  (whether  it  was 
that  they  could  in  themselves  be  demonstrated  but 
not  to  certain  persons,  or  could  not  at  all  be),  whereas 
among  the  Manichees  our  credulity  was  mocked  by 
a  promise  of  certain  knowledge,  and  then  so  many 
most  fabulous  and  absurd  things  were  imposed  to  be 
believed,  because  they  could  not  be  demonstrated. 
Then  Thou,  O  Lord,  little  by  little  with  most  tender 
and  merciful  hand,  touching  and  composing  my  heart, 
didst  persuade  me,  —  considering  what  innumerable 
things  I  believed,  which  I  saw  not,  nor  was  present 
while  they  were  done,  as  so  many  things  in  secular 
history,  so  many  reports  of  places  and  of  cities  which 
I  had  not  seen,  so  many  reports  of  friends,  so  many 
of  physicians,  so  many  continually  of  other  men, 
which  unless  we  should  believe,  we  should  know  noth- 
ing at  all  in  this  life ;  lastly,  with  how  unshaken  an 
assurance  I  believed  of  what  parents  I  was  born, 
which  I  could  not  know  had  I  not  believed  upon 
hearsay,  —  considering  all  this,  Thou  didst  persuade 
me,  that  not  they  wrho  believed  Thy  Books  (which 
Thou  hast  established  in  so  great  authority  among 
almost  all  nations),  but  they  who  believed  them  not, 
were  to  be  blamed ;  and  that  they  were  not  to  be 
heard  who  should  say  to  me,  "  How  knowest  thou 


124  Begins  to  believe  the  Scriptures. 

those  Scriptures  to  have  been  imparted  unto  man- 
kind by  the  Spirit  of  the  one  true  and  most  true 
God?"  For  this  very  thing  was  of, all  most  to  be 
believed,  since  no  contentiousness  of  all  that  multi- 
tude of  blasphemous  questionings  which  I  had  read 
in  the  self-contradicting  philosophers,  could  wring 
this  belief  from  me,  "That  Thou  art"  whatsoever 
Thou  art1  (what  I  knew  not),  and  "That  the  gov- 
ernment of  human  things  belongs  to  Thee." 

8.  This  I  believed,  sometimes  more  strongly,  more 
weakly  other-whiles ;  yet  I  ever  believed  both  that 
Thou  art,  and  hast  a  care  of  us;  though  I  was 
ignorant  both  what  was  to  be  thought  of  Thy  sub- 
stance, and  what  way  led  or  led  back  to  Thee. 
Since,  then,  we  are  too  weak  by  abstract  reasonings 
to  find  out  truth,  and  for  this  very  cause  need  the 
authority  of  Holy  Writ,  I  began  to  believe  that 
Thou  wouldest  never  have  given  such  excellency  of 
authority  to  Scripture  in  all  lands,  hadst  Thou  not 
willed  thereby  to  be  believed  in,  and  sought.  For 
those  things,  sounding  strangely  in  the  Scripture, 
which  were  wont  to  offend  me,  being  now  expounded 
satisfactorily,  I  referred  to  the  depth  of  the  myste- 
ries; and  its  authority  appeared  to  me  the  more 
venerable,  and  more  worthy  of  religious  credence, 
in  that  while  it  lay  open  to  all  to  read,  it  reserved 
the  majesty  of  its  mysteries  within  its  profounder 
meaning,  stooping  to  all  in  the  great  plainness  of  its 
words  and  lowliness  of  its  style,  yet  calling  forth  the 
intensest  application  of  such  as  are  not  light  of 

I  Ex.  iii.  14. 


Augustine's  inward  unrest.  12a 

heart ;  that  so  it  might  receive  all  in  its  open  bosom, 
and  through  narrow  passages  waft  over  towards  Thee 
some  few,  yet  many  more  than  if  it  stood  not  aloft 
on  such  a  height  of  authority,  ftor  drew  multitudes 
within  its  bosom  by  its  holy  lowliness.  These  things 
I  thought  on,  and  Thou  wert  with  me ;  I  sighed,  and 
Thou  heardest  me  ;  I  wavered  and  Thou  didst  guide 
me ;  I  wandered  through  the  broad  way  of  the  world, 
and  Thou  didst  not  forsake  me. 

VI.  9.  I  panted  after  honors,  gains,  marriage ;  and 
Thou  deridedst  me.  In  these  desires  I  underwent 
most  bitter  crosses,  Thou  being  the  more  gracious, 
the  less  Thou  sufferedst  aught  to  grow  sweet  to  me 
which  was  not  Thyself.  Behold  my  heart,  O  Lord, 
who  wouldest  I  should  remember  all  this,  and  con- 
fess to  Thee.  Let  my  soul  cleave  unto  Thee,  now 
that  Thou  hast  freed  it  from  that  fast-holding  bird- 
lime of  death.  How  wretched  was  it!  and  Thou 
didst  irritate  the  sense  of  its  wounds,  that,  forsaking 
all  else,  it  might  be  converted  unto  Thee,  who  art 
above  all,  and  without  whom  all  things  would  be 
nothing;  and  so  be  converted,  and  healed.  How 
miserable  was  I  then,  and  how  didst  Thou  deal  with 
me  to  make  me  feel  my  misery  on  that  day  when  I 
was  preparing  to  recite  a  panegyric  of  the  Emperor,1 
wherein  I  was  to  utter  many  a  lie,  and,  lying,  was  to 
be  applauded  by  those  who  knew  I  lied,  and  my 
heart  was  panting  with  these  anxieties,  and  boiling 
with  the  feverishness  of  consuming  thoughts.  For, 

1  Valentinian  II. :  Compare  Aug.  Contra  retUianum,  III.  25,  and  Tos. 
sidonius  De  Vita  Augustiui,  1.  —  ED. 

11 


126      The  sight  of  a  drunken  beggar  a  lesson. 

passing  through  one  of  the  streets  of  Milan,  I  ob- 
served a  poor  beggar,  then,  I  suppose,  with  a  full 
belly,  joking  and  joyous :  and  I  sighed,  and  spoke  to 
the  friends  around  me  of  the  many  sorrows  of  our 
ambitions;  for  that  by 'all  such  efforts  of  ours,  as 
those  wherein  I^then  toiled,  dragging  along,  under 
the  goading  of  desire,  the  burthen  of  my  own 
wretchedness,  and,  by  dragging,  augmenting  it,  we 
yet  looked  to  arrive  only  at  that  very  joyousness, 
whither  that  beggar-man  had  arrived  before  us,  who 
should  never  perchance  attain  it.  For  what  he  had 
obtained  by  means  of  a  few  begged  pence,  the  same 
was  I  plotting  for  by  many  a  toilsome  turning  and 
winding,  —  the  joy  of  a  temporary  felicity.  For  he 
verily  had  not  the  true  joy ;  but  yet  I,  with  those  my 
ambitious  designs,  was  seeking  one  much  less  true. 
For  certainly  he  was  joyous,  I  anxious ;  he  void  of 
care,  I  full  of  fears.  But  should  any  ask  me,  had  I 
rather  be  merry  or  fearful  ?  I  would  answer,  merry. 
Again,  if  he  asked  had  I  rather  be  such  as  he  was, 
or  what  I  then  was?  I  should  choose  to  be  myself, 
though  worn  with  cares  and  fears ;  but  would  this  be 
wise,  and  according  to  reason  ?  For  I  ought  not  to 
prefer  myself  to  him,  because  more  learned  than  he, 
seeing  I  had  no  joy  therein,  but  sought  to  please 
men  by  it ;  and  that  not  to  instruct,  but  simply  to 
please.  "Wherefore,  also  Thou  didst  break  my  bones 
with  the  staff  of  Thy  correction. 

10.  Away  with  those,  then,  from  my  soul,  who  say 
to  her,  "It  makes  a  difference  whence  a  man's  joy 
is.  That  beggar-man  joyed  in.  drunkenness;  Thou 


Sis  friend  Alypius.  127 

wouldest  joy  in  glory."  What  glory,  Lord  ?  That 
which  is  not  in  Thee.  For  even  as  his  was  no  true 
joy,  so  was  that  no  true  glory:  and  it  overthrew  my 
soul  more.  For  he  that  very  night  would  digest  his 
drunkenness ;  but  I  had  slept  and  risen  again  with 
mine,  and  was  to  sleep  again,  and  again  to  rise  with 
it,  how  many  days,  Thou,  God,  knowest.  But  "  it 
doth  make  a  difference  whence  a  man's  joy  is."  I 
know  it,  and  the  joy  of  a  faithful  hope  lieth  incom- 
parably beyond  such  vanity.  Yea,  and  so  was  that 
beggar  then  beyond  me :  for  he  verily  was  the  hap- 
pier; not  only  ibr  that  he  was  thoroughly  drenched 
in  mirth,  I  disembowelled  with  cares :  but  he,  by  fair 
wishes  had  gotten  wine ;  I,  by  lying,  was  seeking  for 
empty,  swelling  praise.  Much  to  this  purpose  said  I 
then  to  my  friends :  and  I  often  marked  in  them  the 
same  experience  with  my  own ;  and  I  found  it  went 
ill  with  me,  and  grieved,  and  doubled  that  very  ill ; 
and  if  any  prosperity  smiled  on  me,  I  was  loath  to 
catch  at  it,  for  almost  before  I  could  grasp  it,  it  flew 
away. 

VII.  11.  These  things  we,  who  were  living  as 
friends  together,  bemoaned  together,  but  chiefly  and 
most  familiarly  did  I  speak  thereof  with  Alypius  and 
Nebridius.  Alypius  was  born  in  the  same  town  with 
me,  of  persons  of  chief  rank  there,  but  he  was 
younger  than  I.  He  had  studied  under  me,  both 
when  I  first  lectured  in  our  town,  and  afterwards  at 
Carthage,  and  he  loved  me  much,  because  I  seemed 
to  him  kind,  and  learned ;  and  I  loved  him  for  his 
great  towardliness  to  virtue,  which  was  eminent  in 


128  His  friend  Alypius  cured  by  6ro<7, 

one  of  no  greater  years.  Yet  the  whirlpool  of  Car- 
thaginian habits  (amongst  whom  those  idle  spectacles 
are  hotly  followed)  had  drawn  him  into  the  madness 
of  the  Circus.  But  while  he  was  miserably  tossed 
therein,  and  I,  professing  rhetoric  there  in  a  public 
school,  he  as  yet  came  not  under  my  teaching,  by 
reason  of  some  unkindness  risen  betwixt  his  father 
and  me.  I  had  found  how  deadly  he  doted  upon  the 
Circus,  and  was  deeply  grieved  that  he  seemed  likely 
to  throw  away  so  great  promise :  yet  had  I  no  means 
of  advising  or  with  a  sort  of  constraint  reclaiming 
him,  either  by  the  kindness  of  a  friend,* or  the  author- 
ity of  a  master.  For  I  supposed  that  he  thought  of 
me  as  his  father  did ;  but  it  was  not  so  ;  and  laying 
aside  his  father's  mind  in  that  matter,  he  began  to 
greet  me,  came  sometimes  into  my  lecture-room,  hear 
a  little,  and  begone. 

12.  I,  however,  had  forgotten  to  deal  with  him,  so 
that  he  should  not,  through  a  blind  and  headlong 
desire  of  vain  pastimes,  undo  so  good  a  wit.  But 
Thou,  O  Lord,  who  guidest  the  course  of  all  Thou 
hast  created,  hadst  not  forgotten  him,  who  was  one 
day  to  be  among  Thy  children,  a  priest  and  dis- 
penser of  Thy  Sacrament ;  and  that  his  amendment 
might  plainly  be  attributed  to  Thyself,  Thou  effect- 
edst  it  through  me,  but  unknowingly.  For  as  one 
day  I  sat  in  my  accustomed  place,  with  my  scholars 
before  me,  he  entered,  greeted  me,  sat  down,  and 
applied  his  mind  to  what  I  then  handled.  I  had  by 
chance  a  passage  in  hand,  which,  while  I  was  explain- 
ing, a  likeness  from  the  Circensian  races  occurred  to 


through  a  chance  word  of  Augustine.        129 

me,  as  likely  to  make  what  I  would  convey  pleas- 
anter  and  plainer,  seasoned  with  biting  mockery  of 
those  whom  that  madness  had  enthralled;  God, 
Thou  knowest,  that  I  then  thought  not  of  curing 
Alypius  of  that  infection.  But  he  took  it  wholly  to 
himself,  and  thought  that  I  said  it  simply  for  his 
sake.  And  what  another  would  have  taken  as  occa- 
sion of  offence  with  me,  that  right-minded  youth 
took  as  a  ground  of  being  offended  at  himself,  and 
loving  me  more  fervently.  For  Thou  hadst  said  it 
long  ago,  and  put  it  into  Thy  book,  Rebuke  a  wise 
man  and  he  will  love  thee.1  But  I  had  not  rebuked 
him,  but  Thou,  who  eraployest  all,  knowing  or  not 
knowing,  in  that  order  which  Thyself  knowest  (and 
that  order  is  just),  didst  of  my  heart  and  tongue 
make  burning  coals,  by  which  to  set  on  fire  the  hope- 
ful mind,  thus  languishing,  and  so  cure  it.  Let  him 
be  silent  in  Thy  praises,  who  considers  not  Thy  mer- 
cies, which  confess  unto  Thee  out  of  my  inmost  soul. 
For  upon  that  speech,  Alypius  burst  out  of  that  pit 
so  deep,  wherein  he  was  wilfully  plunged,  and  was 
blinded  with  its  wretched  pastimes ;  and  he  roused 
his  mind  with  a  strong  self-command*;  whereupon  all 
the  filths  of  the  Circensian  pastimes  flew  off  from 
him,  nor  returned  he  again  thither.  Upon  this,  he 
prevailed  with  his  unwilling  father,  that  he  might  be 
my  scholar.  He  gave  way,  and  gave  in.  And  Alyp- 
ius beginning  to  be  my  hearer  again,  was  involved 
in  the  same  superstition  with  me,  loving  in  the  Man- 
ichees  that  show  of  consistency,  which  he  supposed 


130          Alypius  betrayed  by  self-confidence 

true  and  unfeigned.  Whereas  it  was  a  senseless  and 
seducing  continency,  ensnaring  precious  souls,  un- 
able as  yet  to  reach  the  depth  of  virtue,  yet  readily 
beguiled  with  the  surface  of  what  was  but  a  shadowy 
and  counterfeit  virtue. 

VIII.  13.  Not  forsaking  that  secular  course  which 
his  parents  had  charmed  him  to  pursue,  he  had  gone 
before  me  to  Rome,  to  study  law,  and  there  he  was 
carried  away  incredibly  with  an  incredible  eagerness 
after  the  shows  of  gladiators.  For  being  utterly 
averse  to  and  detesting  such  spectacles,  he  was  one 
day  by  chance  met  by  divers  of  his  acquaintances  and 
fellow-students  coming  from  dinner,  and  they  with  a 
familiar  violence  haled  him,  vehemently  refusing  and 
resisting,- into  the  Amphitheatre,  during  these  cruel 
and  deadly  shows,  he  thus  protesting :  "  Though  you 
hale  my  body  to  that  place,  and  there  set  me,  can 
you  force  me  also  to  turn  my  mind  or  my  eyes  to 
those  shows?  I  shall  then  be  absent  while  pres- 
ent, and  so  shall  overcome  both  you  and  them." 
They  hearing  this,  led  him  on  nevertheless,  desirous 
perchance  to  try  that  very  thing,  whether  he  could 
do  as  he  said.  When  they  were  come  thither,  and 
had  taken  their  places  as  they  could,  the  whole  place 
kindled  with  that  savage  pastime.  But  he,  closing 
the  passages  of  his  eyes,  forbade  his  mind  to  range 
abroad  after  such  evils ;  and  would  he  had  stopped  his 
ears  also !  For  in  the  fight,  when  one  fell,  a  mighty 
cry  of  the  whole  people  striking  him  strongly,  over- 
come by  curiosity,  and  as  if  prepared  to  despise  and 
be  superior  to  it  whatsoever  it  were,  even  when  seen, 


to  love  gladiatorial  combats.  131 

he  opened  his  eyes,  and  was  stricken  with  a  deeper 
wound  in  his  soul,  than  the  gladiator,  whom  he  de- 
sired to  behold,  was  in  his  body ;  and  he  fell  more 
miserably  than  he,  upon  whose  fall  that  mighty  noise 
was  raised,  which  entered  through  his  ears  and  un- 
locked his  eyes,  to  make  way  for  the  striking  and 
beating  down  of  a  soul,  bold  rather  than  resolute, 
and  the  weaker,  in  that  it  had  presumed  on  itself, 
which  ought  to  have  relied  on  Thee.  For  so  soon 
as  he  saw  that  blood,  he  therewith  drunk  down  sav- 
ageness  ;  nor  turned  away,  but  fixed  his  eye,  drinking 
in  frenzy,  unawares,  and  was  delighted  with  that 
guilty  fight,  and  intoxicated  with  the  bloody  pastime. 
Nor  was  he  now  the  man  he  came,  but  one  of  the 
throng  he  came  unto,  yea,  a  true  associate  of  theirs 
that  brought  him  thither.  Why  say  more  ?  He  be- 
held, shouted,  kindled,  carried  thence  with  him  the 
madness  which  should  goad  him  to  return  not  only 
with  them  who  first  drew  him  thither,  but  also  before 
them,  yea,  and  to  draw  in  others.  Yet  thence  didst 
Thou  with  a  most  strong  and  most  merciful  hand 
pluck  him,  and  taughtest  him  to  have  confidence  not 
in  himself,  but  in  Thee.  But  this  was  afterwards. 

IX.  14.  All  this  was  being  laid  up  in  his  memory 
to  be  a  medicine  hereafter.  So  was  this,  also,  that 
when  he  was  yet  studying  under  me  at  Carthage, 
and  was  thinking  over  at  mid-day  in  the  market- 
place what  he  was  to  say  by  heart  (:is  scholars  are 
accustomed),  Thou  sufferedst  him  to  be  apprehended 
by  the  officers  of  the  market-place  for  a  thief.  For 
no  other  cause  I  deem,  didst  Thou,  our  God,  suffer 


132  God  instructs  beforehand 

it,  but  that  he,  who  was  hereafter  to  prove  so  great  a 
man,  should  already  begin  to  learn  that,  in  judging 
of  causes,  man  is  not  readily  to  be  condemned  by 
man  out  of  a  rash  credulity.  For  as  he  was  walking 
up  and  down  by  himself  before  the  judgment-seat, 
with  his  note-book  and  pen,  lo !  a  young  man,  a  law- 
yer, the  real  thief,  privily  bringing  a  hatchet,  got  in, 
unperceived  by  Alypius,  as  far  as  the  leaden  grat- 
ings, which  fence  in  the  silversmiths'  shops,  and 
began  to  cut  away  the  lead.  But  the  noise  of  the 
hatchet  being  heard,  the  silversmiths  beneath  began 
to  make  a  stir,  and  -sent  to  apprehend  whomever 
they  should  find.  But  the  thief  hearing  their  voices, 
ran  away,  leaving  his  hatchet,  fearing  to  be  taken 
with  it.  Alypius  now,  who  had  not  seen  him  enter, 
was  aware  of  his  leaving,  and  saw  with  what  speed 
he  made  away.  And  being  desirous  to  know  the 
matter,  entered  the  place  ;  where  finding  the  hatchet, 
he  was  standing,  wondering  and  considering  it,  when 
behold,  those  that  had  been  sent,  find  him  alone 
with  the  hatchet  in  his  hand,  the  noise  whereof  had 
startled  and  brought  them  thither.  They  seize  him, 
hale  him  away,  and  gathering  the  dwellers  in  the 
market-place  together,  boast  of  having  taken  a  noto- 
rious thief,  and  so  he  was  being  led  away  to  be  taken 
before  the  judge. 

15.  But  thus  far  was  Alypius  to  be  instructed. 
For  forthwith,  O  Lord,  Thou  succoredst  his  inno- 
cency,  whereof  Thou  alone  wert  witness.  For  as  he 
was  being  led  either  to  prison  or  to  punishment,  a 
certain  architect  met  them,  who  had  the  chief  charge 


those  whom  He  employs.  133 

of  the  public  buildings.  Glad  they  were  to  meet 
him  especially,  by  whom  they  were  wont  to  be  sus- 
pected of  stealing  the  goods  lost  out  of  the  market- 
place, that  they  might  show  him  at  last  by  whom 
these  thefts  were  committed.  He,  however,  had 
frequently  seen  Alypius  at  a  certain  senator's  house, 
to  whom  he  often  went  to  pay  his  respects ;  and  re- 
cognizing him  immediately,  he  took  him  aside  by  the 
hand,  and  inquiring  the  occasion  of  so  great  a  calam- 
ity, heard  the  whole  matter,  and  bade  all  present, 
amid  much  uproar  and  threats,  to  go  with  him.  So 
they  came  to  the  house  of  the  young  man,  who  had 
done  the  deed.  There,  before  the  door,  was  a  boy, 
so  young,  as  to  be  likely,  not  apprehending  any  harm 
to  his  master,  to  disclose  the  whole.  For  he  had 
attended  his  master  to  the  market-place.  Whom,  so 
soon  as  Alypius  remembered,  he  told  the  architect : 
and  he,  showing  the  hatchet  to  the  boy,  asked  him 
"Whose  that  was?"  —  "Ours,"  quoth  he,  presently: 
and  being  further  questioned,  he  discovered  every- 
thing. Thus  the  crime  was  transferred  to  that  house, 
and  the  multitude  which  had  begun  to  insult  over 
Alypius,  was  ashamed  ;  and  he  who  was  to  be  a  dis- 
penser of  Thy  Word,  and  an  examiner  of  many  causes 
in  Thy  Church,  went  away  better  experienced  and 
instructed. 

X.  16.  This  Alypius  I  found  at  Rome,  and  he 
clave  to  me  by  a  strong  tie,  and  went  with  me  to 
Milan,  both  that  he  might  not  leave  me,  and,might 
practise  something  of  the  law  he  had  studied,  more 
to  please  his  parents  than  himself.  There  he  had 


134  Aly plus's  unusual  honesty. 

thrice  sat  as  assessor  with  an  uncorruptness  much 
wondered  at  by  others,  he  wondering  at  others, 
rather,  who  could  pi-efer  gold  to  honesty.  His  char- 
acter was  tried,  besides,  not  only  with  the  bait  of 
covetousness,  but  with  the  goad  of  fear.  At  Rome 
he  was  assessor  to  the  Count  o£  the  Italian  Treasury. 
There  was  at  that  time  a  very  powerful  senator,  to 
whose  favors  many  stood  indebted,  and  whom  many 
much  feared.  He  would  needs  do,  by  abuse  of  power, 
what  by  the  laws  was  unallowed.  Alypius  resisted 
it :  a  bribe  was  promised ;  with  all  his  heart  he 
scorned  it :  threats  were  held  out ;  he  trampled  upon 
them:  all  wondering  at  so  unwonted  a  spirit,  which 
neither  desired  the  friendship,  nor  feared  the  enmity 
of  one  so  great  and  so  renowned  for  innumerable 
means  of  doing  good  or  evil.  And  the  very  judge 
also,  whose  counsellor  Alypius  was,  although  unwill- 
ing it  should  be,  yet  did  not  openly  refuse,  but  put 
the  matter  off  upon  Alypius,  alleging  that  he  would 
not  allow  him  to  do  it :  for  in  truth  had  the  judge 
done  it,  Alypius  would  have  decided  otherwise. 
With  this  one  thing  in  the  way  of  learning,  however, 
was  he  well-nigh  seduced,  namely,  that  he  might 
have  books  copied  for  him  at  the  city's  expense ;  but 
consulting  justice,  lie  altered  his  deliberation  for  the 
better;  esteeming  equity  whereby  he  was  hindered 
more  gainful  than  the  power  whereby  he  were  al- 
lowed. These  are  slight  things,  but  he  that  is  faith- 
ful in  little,  is  faithful  also  in  much.1  Xor  can  that 
be  void  which  proceeded  out  of  the  mouth  of  Thy 

1  Luke  xvi.  10. 


Augustine's  longing  after  amendment.       135 

Truth  ;  If  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  the  unright- 
eous Mammon,  who  icitt  commit  to  your  trust  true 
riches  f  And  if  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  that 
which  is  another  man's,  who  shall  give  you  that 
which  is  your  own?1  He  being  such,  did  at  that 
time  cleave  to  me,  and  with  me  wavered  in  purpose, 
what  course  of  life  was  to  be  taken. 

17.  Nebridius,  also,  who,  having  left  his  native 
country  near  Carthage,  yea,  and  Carthage  itself,  where 
he  had  lived  some  time,  leaving  his  excellent  family- 
estate  and  house,  and  a  mother  behind,  who  was 
not  to  follow  him,  had  come  to  Milan,  for  no  other 
reason  but  that  with  me  he  might  live  in  a  most 
ardent  search  after  truth  and  wisdom.  Like  me  he 
sighed,  like  me  he  wavered,  an  ardent  searcher  after 
true  life,  and  a  most  acute  examiner  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult questions.  Thus  were  there  the  mouths  of  three 
indigent  persons  sighing  out  their  wants  one  to  an- 
other, and  waiting  ttpon  Thee  that  Thou  mightest 
give  them  their  meat  in  due  season.2  And  in  all  the 
bitterness,  which  by  Thy  mercy  followed  our  worldly 
affairs,  as  we  looked  towards  the  end,  and  asked  why 
we  should  suffer  all  this,  darkness  met  us;  and  we 
turned  away  groaning,  and  saying,  How  long  shall 
these  things  be?  This,  too,  we  often  said:  and  yet, 
so  saying,  forsook  not  these  worldly  things ;  for  as 
yet  there  dawned  nothing  certain  which,  we  might 
embrace  in  the  place  of  them. 

XI.  18.  And  I,  viewing  and  reviewing  'things, 
wondered  extremely  at  the  length  of  time  that  had 

1  Lukexvi.  11, 12.  2  P8.  cxlv.  15. 


136       A-ugustinds  longing  after  amendment. 

elapsed  since  my  nineteenth  year,  when  I  first  began 
to  kindle  with  the  desire  of  wisdom,  resolving  when 
I  had  found  it  to  abandon  all  the  empty  hopes  and 
lying  frenzies  of  vain  desires.  And  lo !  I  was  now  in 
my  thirtieth  year,  sticking  in  the  same  mire,  greedy 
of  enjoying-  present  things,  which  passed  away  and 
wasted  my  soul ;  while  I  said  to  myself,  "  To-morrow 
I  shall  find  it;  it  will  appear  manifestly,  and  I  shall 
grasp  it ;  lo !  Faustus  the  Manichee  will  come,  and 
clear  up  everything !  O  you  great  men,  ye  Acade- 
micians, it  is  true  then  that  no  certainty  can  be 
-attained  for  the  ordering  of  life !  Nay,  let  me  search 
the  more  diligently,  and  despair  not.  Lo !  things  in 
the  ecclesiastical  books  are  not  absurd  to  me  now, 
which  sometimes  seemed  absurd,  and  may  be  other- 
wise taken,  and  in  a  good  sense.  I  will  take  my 
stand  where,  as  a  child,  my  parents  placed  me,  until 
the  clear  truth  be  found  out.  But  where  shall  it  be 
sought,  or  when  ?  Ambrose  has  no  leisure  ;  I  have 
no  leisure  to  read ;  where  shall  I  find  even  the 
books  ?  Whence,  or  when  procure  them  ?  from 
whom  borrow  them?  Let  set  times  be  appointed, 
and  certain  hours  ordered  for  the  health  of  my  soul. 
Great  hope  has  dawned  ;  the  Catholic  Faith  teaches 
not  what  I  thought,  and  vainly  accused  it  of;  her  in- 
structed members  hold  it  profane  to  believe  God  to 
be  bounded  by  the  figure  of  a  human  body:  and 
shall  I  hesitate  to  'knock,'  that  the  rest  'may  be 
opened?'  The  forenoons  my  scholars  take  up ;  what 
do  I  during  the  rest  of  the  day?  Why  not  exam- 
ine this  subject?  But  when  shall  I  pay  court  to  my 


Augustine's  perplexities  and  vacillations.     137 

great  friends,  whose  favor  I  need  ?  When  compose 
what  I  may  sell  to  scholars?  When  refresh  myself, 
unbending  my  mind  from  this  intenseness  of  care  ? 

19.  Perish  everything,  dismiss  these  empty  van- 
ities, and  betake  myself  to  the  one  search  for  truth ! 
Life  is  vain,  death  uncertain ;  if  it  steals  upon  me  on 
a  sudden,  in  what  state  shall  I  depart  hence  ?  and 
where  shall  I  learn  what  here  I  have  neglected? 
and  shall  I  not  rather  suffer  the  punishment  of  this 
negligence  ?  What,  if  death  itself  cut  off  and  end 
all  care  and  feeling  ?  Then  must  this  be  ascertained. 
But  God  forbid  this !  It  is  no  vain  and  empty  thing, 
that  the  excellent  dignity  of  the  authority  of  the 
Christian  Faith  hath  overspread  the  whole  world. 
Never  would  such  and  so  great  things  be  by  God 
wrought  for  us,  if  with  the  death  of  the  body  the  life 
of  the  soul  came  to  an  end.  Wherefore  do  I  delay 
then  to  abandon  worldly  hopes,  and  give  myself 
wholly  to  seek  after  God  and  the  blessed  life  ?  But 
wait !  Worldly  things  are  pleasant ;  they  have  no 
small  sweetness.  I  must  not  lightly  abandon  them, 
for  it  were  a  shame  to  return  again  to  them.  See,  it 
is  no  difficult  matter  now  to  obtain  some  station,  and 
then  what  more  should  I  wish  for  ?  I  have  store  of 
powerful  friends ;  if  nothing  else  offer,  and  I  be  in 
much  haste,  at  least  a  presidentship 1  may  be  given 
me:  and  a  wife  with  some  money,  that  she  increase 
not  my  charges  :  and  this  shall  be  the  bound  of  my 
desire.  Many  great  men  and  most  worthy  of  imita- 

l  The  government  of  a  province. 


138       lie  is  ignorant  that  God  gives  strength. 

tion,  have  given  themselves  to  the  study  of  wisdom 
in  the  state  of  marriage." 

20.  "While  I  went  over  these  things,  and  these 
winds  shifted  and  drove  my  heart  this  way  and  that, 
time  passed  on,  but  I  delayed  to  turn  to  the  Lord ; 
and  from  day  to  day  deferred  to  live  in  Thee,  and  so 
died  in  myself.  Loving  a  happy  life,  I  feared  to  seek 
it  in  its  own  true  abode,  and  sought  it  by  fleeing 
from  it.  I  thought  I  should  be  too  miserable,  unless 
folded  in  female  arms;  and  of  the  medicine  of  Thy 
mercy  to  cure  that  infirmity  I  thought  not,  not  hav- 
ing tried  it.  As  for  continency,  I  supposed  it  must 
be  in  our  own  power  (though  in  myself  I  did  not 
find  that  power),  being  so  foolish  as  not  to  know 
what  is  written,  None  can  be  continent  unless  Tkou 
give  it;1  and  that  Thou  wouldest  give  it,  if  with 
inward  groanings  I  did  knock  at  Thine  ears,  and 
with  a  settled  faith  did  cast  my  care  on  Thee. 

XII.  21.  Alypius  indeed  kept  me  from  marrying ; 
alleging,  that  in  that  case,  we  could  not  in  undis- 
tracted  leisure  live  together  in  the  search  after  wis- 
dom, as  we  had  long  desired.  He  himself  was  even 
then  most  chaste,  so  much  so  that  it  was  wonderful ; 
and  all  the  more,  since  in  the  outset  of  his  youth  he 
had  entered  into  that  course,  but  had  not  stuck  fast 
therein ;  rather  had  he  felt  remorse  and  revolting  at 
it,  living  thenceforth  until  now  most  continently. 
But  I  opposed  him  with  the  examples  of  those  who, 
as  married  men,  had  cherished  wisdom,  and  served 
God  acceptably,  and  retained  their  friends,  and  loved 

1  Wisd.  viii.  2.    Vulg. 


Modes  of  life.  139 


them  faithfully.  Of  whose  greatness  of  spirit  I  came 
far  short ;  and  bound  with  the  disease  of  the  flesh, 
and  its  deadly  sweetness,  I  drew  along  my  chain, 
dreading  to  be  loosed,  and  as  if  my  wound  had  been 
fretted,  put  back  his  good  persuasions,  as  it  were  the 
hand  of  one  that  would  unchain  me.  Moreover,  by 
me  did  the  serpent  speak  unto  Alypius  himself,  by 
my  tongue  weaving  and  laying  in  his  path  pleasur- 
able snares,  wherein  his  virtuous  and  free  feet  might 
be  entangled. 

22.  For  when  he  wondered  that  I,  whom  he  es- 
teemed not  slightly,  should  stick  so  fast  in  the  bird- 
lime of  that  pleasure,  as  to  protest  (so  oft  as  we 
discussed  it)  that  I  could  never  lead  a  single  life; 
and  urged  in  my  defence,  when  I  saw  him  wonder, 
that  there  was  a  great  difference  between  his  momen- 
tary and  scarce-remembered  knowledge  of  that  life, 
which  so  he  might  easily  despise,  and  my  continued 
acquaintance  with  it,  whereto  if  but  the  honorable 
name  of  marriage  were  added,  he  ought  not  to  won- 
der why  I  could  not  contemn  it ;  he  began  also  to 
desire  to  be  married,  —  not  as  overcome  with  desire 
of  such  pleasure,  but  out  of  curiosity.  For  he  would 
fain  know,  he  said,  what  that  should  be,  without 
which  my  life,  to  him  so  pleasing,  would  to  me  seem 
not  life  but  a  punishment.  For  his  mind,  free  from 
that  chain,  was  amazed  at  my  thraldom ;  and  through 
that  amazement  was  going  on  to  a  desire  of  tiying  it, 
thence  to  the  trial  itself,  and  thence  perhaps  to  sink 
into  that  bondage  whereat  he  wondered,  seeing  he 
was  willing  to  make  a  covenant,  with  death;1  and, 

1  Is.  xxviii.  15. 


1 40  Marriage. 

he  that  loves  danger  shall  fall  into  it.1  For  whatever 
honor  there  be  in  the  office  of  a  well-ordered  married 
life  and  a  family,  moved  us  but  slightly.  The  habit 
of  satisfying  an  insatiable  appetite  tormented  me, 
while  it  held  me  captive ;  and  an  admiring  wonder 
was  leading  him  captive.  Thus  were  we,  until  Thou, 
O  Most  High,  not  forsaking  our  dust,  commiserating 
us  miserable,  didst  come  to  our  help,  by  wondrous 
and  secret  ways. 

XIII.  23.  Continual  effort  was  made  to  have  me 
married.  I  wooed,  I  was  promised,  chiefly  through 
my  mother's  pains,  that  so  once  married,  the  health- 
giving  baptism  might  cleanse  me,  towards  which  she 
rejoiced  that  I  was  becoming  daily  more  disposed, 
and  observed  that  her  prayers,  and  Thy  promises, 
were  being  fulfilled  in  my  faith.  At  which  time, 
verily,  both  at  my  request  and  her  own  longing,  with 
strong  cries  of  heart  she  daily  begged  of  Thee,  that 
Thou  wouldest  by  a  vision  discover  unto  her  some- 
thing concerning  my  future  marriage;  but  Thou 
never  wouldest.  She  saw  indeed  certain  vain  and 
fantastic  things,  such  as  the  energy  of  the  human 
spirit,  busied  thereon,  brought  together;  and  these 
she  told  me  of,  not  with  that  confidence  she  was 
wont,  when  Thou  showedst  her  anything,  but  slight- 
ing them.  For  she  could,  she  said,  through  a  certain 
feeling,  which  in  words  she  could  not  express,  discern 
betwixt  Thy  revelations,  and  the  dreams  of  her  own 
soul.  Yet  the  matter  was  pressed  on,  and  a  maiden 
asked  in  marriage,  two  years  under  the  fit  age ;  but, 
as  I  liked  her,  I  waited  for  her. 

1  EccJus.  iii.  27. 


Proposed  recluse  life.  141 

XIV.  24.  And  many  of  us  friends  conferring 
about,  arid  detesting  the  turbulent  turmoils  of  hu- 
man life,  had  debated  and  now  almost  resolved  on 
living  apart  from  business  and  the  bustle  of  men ; 
and  this  was  to  be  thus  obtained ;  we  were  to  bring 
whatever  we  might  severally  procure,  and  make  one 
household  of  all ;  so  that  through  the  truth  of  our 
friendship  nothing  should  belong  especially  to  any ; 
but  the  whole  thus  derived  from  all,  should  as  a 
whole  belong  to  each,  and  all  to  all.  We  thought 
there  might  be  some  ten  persons  in  this  society ; 
some  of  us  were  very  lich,  especially  Romanianus, 
our  townsman,  from  childhood  a  very  familiar  friend 
of  mine,  whom  the  grievous  perplexities  of  his  affairs 
had  brought  up  to  court.  He  was  the  most  earnest 
for  this  project ;  and  his  voice  was  of  great  weight, 
because  hLs  ample  estate  far  exceeded  any  of  the 
rest.  We  had  settled,  also,  that  two  annual  officers, 
as  it  were,  should  provide  all  things  necessary,  the 
rest  being  u»disturbed.  But  when  we  began  to  con- 
sider whether  the  wives,  which  some  of  us  already 
had,  and  others  hoped  to  have,  would  allow  this,  all 
that  plan,  which  was  being  so  well  moulded,  fell  to 
pieces  in  our  hands,  and  was  utterly  dashed  and  cast 
aside.  Thence  we  betook  us  to  sighs,  and  groans, 
and  to  follow  the  broad  and  beaten  ways  of  the 
world.1  Many  were  the  thoughts  in  our  heart,  but 
Thy  counsel  standeth  forever?  Out  of  which  coun- 
sel Thou  didst  deride  ours,  and  preparedst  Thine 
own  ;  purposing  to  give  us  meat  in  due  season,  and 

l  Matt.  vii.  13.  2  ps.  xxxiii.  11. 

12 


142  His  inveterate  sins. 

to  open  Thy  hand,  and  to  Jill  our  souls  with  bless- 
ing}- 

XV.  25.  Meanwhile  my  sins  were  multiplied,  and 
my  concubine  being  torn  from  my  side  as  a  hin- 
drance to  my  marriage,  my  heart,  which  clave  unto 
her,  was  torn  and  wounded  and  bleeding.     And  she 
returned  to  Africa,  vowing  unto  Thee  never  to  know 
any  other  man,  leaving  with  me  my  son  by  her.     But 
unhappy  I,  who   could  not  imitate  a  very  woman, 
impatient  because  not  till  after  two  years  was  I  to 
obtain  my  wife,  and  not  being  so  much  a  lover  of 
marriage  as  a  slave  to  lust,  procured  another  concu- 
bine, that  so,  by  the  servitude  of  an  enduring  custom, 
the  disease  of  my  soul  might  be  kept  up  and  carried 
on  in  its  vigor,  or  even  augmented,  into  the  dominion 
of  marriage.     Nor  was  my  wound  cured,  which  had 
been  made  by  the  previous  incision,  but  after  inflam- 
mation and  most  acute  pain,  it  mortified,  and  then 
my  pains  became  less  acute,  but  more  desperate. 

XVI.  26.  Praise   be   to  Thee,  glory  to   Thee,  O 
Fountain  of  mercies.    I  was  becoming  more  miser- 
able, and  Thou  becoming  nearer.     Thy  right  hand 
was  continually  ready  to  pluck  me  out  of  the  mire, 
and  to  wash  me  thoroughly,  and  I  knew  it  not ;  nor 
did  anything  call  me  back  from  a  yet  deeper  gulf  of 
carnal  pleasures,  but  the  fear  of  death,  and  of  Thy 
judgment   to   come ;    which,  amid   all  my  changes, 
never  departed  from  my  breast.     And  in  my  dis- 
putes with  my  friends,  Alypius  and  Nebridius,  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  good  and  evil,  I  held  that 

1  Ps.  cilv.  15, 16. 


His  inveterate  sins.  143 

Epicurus  would  have,  in  my  mind,  won  the  palm, 
had  I  not  believed  that  after  death  there  remained  a 
life  for  the  soul,  and  places  of  requital  according  to 
men's  deserts,  which  Epicurus  would  not  believe. 
And  I  asked,  "  were  we  immortal,  and  to  live  in  per- 
petual bodily  pleasure,  without  fear  of  losing  it,  why 
should  we  not  be  happy,  or  what  else  should  we 
seek  ?  "  not  knowing  that  great  misery  was  involved 
in  this  very  thing,  that,  being  thus  sunk  and  blinded, 
I  could  not  discern  that  light  of  excellence  and 
beauty,  to  be  embraced  for  its  own  sake,  which  the 
eye  of  flesh  cannot  see,  and  which  is  seen  only  by 
the  inner  man.  Nor  did  I,  unhappy,  consider  from 
what  source  it  sprung,  that  even  on  these  things, 
foul  as  they  were,  I  with  pleasure  discoursed  with 
my  friends  ;  nor  could  I,  even  according  to  the  no- 
tions I  then  had  of  happiness,  be  happy  without 
friends,  amid  what  abundance  soever  of  carnal  pleas- 
ures. And  yet  these  friends  I  loved  for  themselves 
only,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  beloved  of  them  again  for 


O  crooked  paths!  "Woe  to  the  audacious  soul, 
which  hoped,  by  forsaking  Thee,  to  gain  some  better 
thing  !  Tossed  up  and  down,  upon  back,  sides,  and 
breast,  it  found  only  pain  ;  for  Thou  alone  art  rest. 
And  behold,  Thou  art  at  hand,  and  deliverest  us 
from  our  wretched  wanderings,  and  placest  us  in  Thy 
way,  and  dost  comfort  us,  and  say,  "  Run  ;  I  will 
carry  you;  yea,  I  will  bring  you  through;  beyond 
also  will  I  carry  you." 


<      THE   SEVENTH  BOOK. 

AUGUSTINE'S  THIRTY-FIRST  TEAK  —  HE  18  GRADUALLY  EXTRICATED 
FROM  HIS  ERRORS,  BCT  STILL  WITH  MATERIAL  CONCEPTIONS  OF 
GOD—  AIDED  BY  AN  ARGUMENT  OK  KEBRIDIU8  —  SEES  THAT  THE 
CAUSE  OF  SIN  LIES  IN  FREE-WILL — REJECTS  THE  MAMCU.CAN 
HERESY,  BUT  CANJiOT  ALTOGETHER  EMBRACE  THE  DOCTRINE  OF 
THE  CHURCH  —  RECOVERED  FROM  THE  BELIEF  IN  ASTROLOGY,  BUT 
MISERABLY  PERPLEXED  ABOUT  THE  ORIGIN  OF  EVIL  —  IS  LED  TO 
FIND  IN  THE  PLATO.MBT8  THE  SEEDS  OF  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE 
DIVINITY  OF  THE  WORD,  BUT  KOT  OF  HIS  HUMILIATION  —  HENCE 
HE  OBTAINS  CLEARER  NOTIONS  OF  GOD'S  MAJESTY,  BUT,  NOT  KNOW- 
ING CHRIST  TO  BE  THE  MEDIATOR,  REMAINS  ESTRANGED  FROM  HIM 
—  ALL  HIS  DOUBTS  REMOVED  BY  THE  HOLY  SCRIPTURE,  ESPECIALLY 
ST.  PAUL. 

I.  1.  My  evil  and  abominable  youth  was  now 
ended,  and  I  was  passing  into  early  manhood ;  the 
more  defiled  by  vain  things  as  I  grew  in  years,  for  I 
could  not  imagine  any  substance  but  such  as  is  wont 
to  be  seen  with  these  eyes.  I  did  not  think  of  Thee, 
O  God,  under  the  figure  of  an  human  body ;  since  I 
began  to  hear  aught  of  wisdom,  I  always  avoided 
this ;  and  rejoiced  to  have  found  the  same  in  the 
faith  of  our  spiritual  mother,  Thy  Catholic  Church. 
But  what  else  to  conceive  Thee  I  knew  not.  And  I, 
a  man,  and  such  a  man,  sought  to  conceive  of  Thee 
the  sovereign,  only,  true  God ;  and  I  did  in  my  in- 
most soul  believe  that  Thou  art  incorruptible,  and 
uninjurable,  and  unchangeable;  because,  though  not 
knowing  whence  or  how,  yet  I  saw  plainly  and  was 


His  thirty-first  year.  145 

sure  that  the  corruptible  must  be  inferior  to  the  in- 
corruptible ;  what  could  not  be  injured,  I  preferred 
unhesitatingly  to  what  could  receive  injury;  the  un- 
changeable, to  things  subject  to  change.  My  heart 
passionately  cried  out  against  all  phantoms,  and  with 
one  blow  I  sought  to  beat  away  from  the  eye  of  my 
mind  all  that  unclean  troop  which  buzzed  around  it. 
And  lo !  being  scarcely  driven  off,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  they  gathered  again  thick  about  me,  flew 
against  my  face,  and  beclouded  it ;  so  that,  though 
not  under  the  form  of  the  human  body,  yet  was  I 
constrained  to  conceive  of  Thee  (that  incorruptible, 
uninjurable,  and  unchangeable,  which  I  preferred 
before  the  corruptible,  and  inj  arable,  and  change- 
able) as  being  in  space,  either  infused  into  the  world, 
or  diffused  infinitely  without  it.  Because,  whatsoever 
I  conceived  deprived  of  this  space  seemed  to  me 
nothing,  yea,  altogether  nothing ;  not  even  a  void,  as 
if  a  body  were  taken  out  of  its  place,  and  the  place 
should  remain  empty  of  any  body  at  all,  of  earth  and 
water,  air  and  heaven,  yet  would  it  remain  a  void 
place,  as  it  were  a  spacious  nothing. 

2.  I  then  being  thus  gross-hearted,  nor  clear  even 
to  myself,  whatsoever  was  not  extended  over  certain 
spaces,  nor  diffused,  nor  condensed,  nor  swelled  out, 
or  did  not  or  could  not  receive  some  of  these  dimen- 
sions, I  thought  to  be  altogether  nothing.  For  over 
such  forms  as  my  eyes  are  wont  to  range,  did  my 
heart  then  range :  nor  yet  did  I  see  that  this  same 
notion  of  the  mind,  whereby  I  formed  those  very 
images,  was  not  of  this  sensuous  sort,  and  yet  the 


146  Inquiries  about  the  Being  of  God, 

mind  could  not  have  formed  them,  had  not  itself  been 
some  great  thing.  So  also  did  I  endeavor  to  con- 
ceive of  Thee,  Life  of  my  life,  as  vast,  through  infinite 
spaces  on  every  side  penetrating  the  whole  mass  of 
the  universe,  and  beyond  it,  every  way,  through 
unmeasurable  boundless  spaces;  so  that  the  earth 
should  have  Thee,  the  heaven  have  Thee,  all  things 
have  Thee,  and  they  be  bounded  in  Thee,  and  Thou 
bounded  nowhere.  For  as  the  body  of  this  air  which 
is  above  the  earth  hindereth  not  the  light  of  the 
pun  from  passing  through  it,  penetrating  it,  not  by 
bursting  or  by  cutting,  but  by  filling  it  wholly :  so  I 
thought  the  body  not  of  heaven,  air,  and  sea  only, 
but  of  the  earth  too,  pervious  to  Thee,  so  that  in  all 
its  parts,  the  greatest  as  the  smallest,  it  should  admit 
Thy  presence,  by  a  secret  inspiration,  within  and 
without,  directing  all  things  which  Thou  hast  cre- 
ated. So  I  guessed,  only  as  unable  to  conceive 
aught  else,  for  it  was  false.  For  in  that  case,  a 
greater  part  of  the  earth  would  contain  a  greater 
portion  of  Thee,  and  a  less,  a  lesser :  and  all  things 
would  be  full  of  Thee,  in  such  manner  that  the  body 
of  an  elephant  would  contain  more  of  Thee  than 
that  of  a  sparrow,  since  it  is  larger,  and  takes  up 
more  room ;  and  thus  Thou  wouldest  make  the  sev- 
eral portions  of  Thyself  present  unto  the  several 
portions  of  the  world,  in  fragments,  large  to  the 
large,  little  to  the  little.  But  such  art  not  Thou, 
who  hadst  not  as  yet  enlightened  my  darkness. 

II.  3.  It  was  enough  for  me,  Lord,  to  oppose  to 
those  deceived  deceivers,  and  dumb  praters,  what 


Jlfrtnner  of  God's  presence  in  tJie  Universe.     147 

Xebridius  used  to  propound,  while  we  were  yet  at 
Carthage,  at  which  all  we  that  heard*  it  were  stag- 
gered :  "  That  kingdom  of  darkness,  which  the  Man- 
ichees  are  wont  to  set  as  an  opposing  mass,  over 
against  God,  what  could  it  have  done  unto  God,  had 
He  refused  to  fight  with  it  ?  For,  if  they  answer,  *  it 
would  have  done  God  some  hurt,'  then  would  God 
be  subject  to  injury  and  corruption :  but  if  they  an- 
swer '  it  could  do  God  no  hurt,'  then  there  was  no 
reason  why  God  should  fight  with  it ;  and  fighting, 
too,  in  such  wise,  as  that  a  certain  portion  or  mem- 
ber of  God,  or  offspring  of  His  very  Substance, 
should  be  mingled  wTith  opposed  powers  and  na- 
tures not  created  by  God,  and  be  by  them  so  far 
corrupted  and  changed  to  the  worse*,  as  to  be  turned 
from  happiness  into  misery,  and  need  assistance, 
whereby  it  might  be  extricated  and  purified;  and 
that  this  offspring  of  God's  Substance  was  the  soul, 
which  being  enthralled,  defiled,  corrupted,  the  Divine 
Word,  free,  pure,  and  whole,  might  relieve;  that 
Word  Itself  being  also  corruptible,  because  It  was 
of  one  and  the  same  Substance.1  So  then,  should 
they  affirm  God,  whatsoever  He  is  (that  is,  the  Sub- 
stance whereby  He  is),  to  be  incorruptible,  then  were 
all  these  sayings  false  and  execrable ;  but  if  corrupt- 
ible, the  very  statement  showed  it  to  be  false  and 
revolting."  This  argument,  then,  of  Xebridius  suf- 
ficed against  those,  who  deserved  wholly  to  be  vom- 

1  Compare  the  account  of  the  Manichiran  cosmogony,  together  with 
that  of  the  Basil  idean  and  Valentinian  Gnosticism,  in  Guericke's  Church 
History,  H  46,  47,  64.  — ED. 


T7ie  problem  of  evil. 


ited  out  of  the  overcharged  stomach ;  for  they  had 
no  escape  from  horrible  blasphemy  of  heart  and 
tongue,  thus  thinking  and  speaking  of  Thee. 

III.  4.  But  although  I  held,  and  was  firmly  per- 
suaded, that  Thou  our  Lord  the  true  God,  who 
madest  not  only  our  souls,  but  our  bodies,  and  not 
only  our  souls  and  bodies,  but  all  beings,  and  all 
things,  art  undefilable  and  unalterable,  and  in  no 
degree  mutable,  yet  I  understood  not,  clearly  and 
without  difficulty,  the  cause  of  evil.  And  yet,  what- 
ever it  were,  I  perceived  it  was  in  such  wise  to  be 
sought  out,  as  should  not  constrain  me  to  believe  the 
immutable  God  to  be  mutable,  lest  I  should  become 
the  evil  I  was  seeking  to  understand.  I  sought  it 
out,  then,  thus  far  free  from  anxiety,  certain  of  the 
untruth  of  what  the  Manichees  held,  from  whom  I 
shrunk  with  my  whole  heart ;  for  I  saw  that,  through 
inquiring  the  origin  of  evil,  they  were  filled  with  evil, 
in  that  they  preferred  to  think  that  Thy  substance 
did  suffer  ill  than  that  their  own  did  commit  it. 

5.  And  I  strained  to  perceive  what  I  now  heard, 
that  freewill  was  the  cause  of  our  doing  ill,  and  Thy 
just  judgment  of  our  suffering  ill.  But  I  was  not 
able  clearly  to  discern  it.  So,  then,  endeavoring  to 
draw  my  soul's  vision  out  of  that  deep  pit,  I  was 
again  plunged  therein,  and  endeavoring  often,  I  was 
plunged  back  as  often.  But  this  raised  me  a  little 
into  Thy  light,  so  that  I  knew  as  well  that  I  had  a 
will,  as  that  I  lived  :  when  then  I  did  will  or  nill 
anything,  I  was  most  sure  that  no  other  than  myself 
did  will  and  nill :  and  I  all  but  saw  that  there  was 


Tlie  problem  of  evil.  149 

the  cause  of  my  sin.  But  what  I  did  against  my 
will,  I  saw  that  I  suffered  rather  than  did,  and  I 
judged  not  to  be  my  fault,  but  my  punishment; 
whereby,  however,  holding  Thee  to  be  just,  I  speed- 
ily confessed  myself  to  be  not  unjustly  punished. 
But  again  I  said,  Who  made  me  ?  Did  not  my  God, 
who  is  not  only  good,  but  goodness  itself?  Whence 
then  came  I  to  will  evil  and  nill  good,  so  that  I  am 
thus  justly  punished?  who  set  this  in  me,  and  in- 
grafted into  me  this  plant  of  bitterness,  seeing  I  was 
wholly  formed  by  my  most  sweet  God  ?  If  the  devil 
were  the  author,  whence  is  that  same  devil  ?  And 
if  he  also  by  his  own  perverse  will,  of  a  good  angel 
became  a  devil,  whence,  again,  came  in  him  that  evil 
will  whereby  he  became  a  devil,1  seeing  the  whole  na- 
ture of  angels  was  made  by  that  most  good  Creator? 
By  these  thoughts  I  was  again  sunk  down  and  choked ; 
yet  not  brought  down  to  that  hell  of  error  (where  no 
man  confesseth  unto  Thee),  to  think  rather  that  Thou 
dost  suffer  ill,  than  that  man  doth  it.3 

IV.  6.  For  I  was  striving  to  find  out  the  rest, 
having  already  found  that  the  incorruptible  must 
needs  be  better  than  the  corruptible :  and  whatso- 
ever Thou  wert,  I  confessed  Thee  to  be  incorrupt- 
ible. For  never  soul  was,  nor  shall  be,  able  to 
conceive  anything  which  may  be  better  than  Thou, 
who  art  the  sovereign  and  the  best  good.  But 
since,  most  truly  and  certainly,  the  incorruptible  is 

1  The  question  :  What  is  the  efficient  cause  of  an  evil  will?  Augustine, 
at  a  later  day,  affirmed  to  be  inadmissible,  because  it  involves  a  self-con- 
tradiction.   See  De  Civitate  Dei,  XII.  7.  —  ED. 

2  Ts.  vi.  5. 


150  27ie  problem  of  evil. 

preferable  to  the  corruptible  (as  I  did  now  prefer 
it),  then  if  Thou  wert  not  incorruptible,  I  could  in 
thought  have  arrived  at  something  better  than  ray 
God.  "Where  then  I  saw  the  incorruptible  to  be 
preferable  to  the  corruptible,  there  ought  I  to  seek 
for  Thee,  and  there  observe  "wherein  evil  itself 
was;"  that  is,  whence  corruption  comes,  by  which 
Thy  substance  can  by  no  means  be  impaired.  For 
corruption  does  no  ways  impair  our  God ;  by  no  will, 
by  no  necessity,  by  no  unlooked-for  chance  :  because 
He  is  God,  and  what  he  wills  is  good,  and  Himself  is 
that  good ;  but  to  be  corrupted  is  not  good.  Nor 
art  Thou  against  Thy  will  constrained  to  do  any- 
thing, since  Thy  will  is  not  greater  than  Thy  power.  But 
greater  should  it  be,  were  Thyself  greater  than  Thy- 
self. For  the  will  and  power  of  God,  is  God  Him- 
self. And  what  can  be  unlooked-for  by  Thee,  wrho 
knowest  all  things?  Nor  is  there  any  nature  in 
things,  but  Thou  knowest  it.  And  what  more  rea- 
son should  we  give,  "  why  that  substance  which  God 
is  should  not  be  corruptible,"  seeing  if  it  were  so,  it 
should  not  be  God  ? 

V.  7.  And  I  sought,  "  whence  is  evil,"  and  sought 
in  an  evil  way;  and  saw  not  the  evil  in  my  very 
search.  I  set  now  before  the  sight  of  my  spirit  the 
whole  creation,  whatsoever  we  can  see  therein  (as 
sea,  earth,  air,  stars,  trees,  mortal  creatures),  yea,  and 
whatever  in  it  we  do  not  see,  as  the  firmament  of 
heaven,  all  angels  moreover,  and  all  the  spiritual  in- 
habitants thereof.  But  these  very  beings,  as  though 
they  were  bodies,  did  my  fancy  dispose  each  in  its 


T. 'ie  problem  of  evil.  151 

own  place,  and  I  made  one  great  mass  of  Thy  crea- 
tion, distinguished  as  to  the  kinds  of  bodies ;  some, 
real  bodies;  some,  what  myself  had  feigned  for  spirits. 
And  this  mass  I  made  huge,  not  as  it  was  (which  I 
could  not  know),  but  as  I  thought  fitting,  yet  every 
way  finite.  But  Thee,  O  Lord,  I  imagined  on  every 
part  environing  and  penetrating  it,  though  every 
way  infinite  :  as  if  there  were  a  sea,  everywhere,  and 
on  every  side,  through  unmeasured  space,  one  only 
boundless  sea,  and  it  contained  within  it  a  sponge, 
huge,  but  bounded ;  that  sponge  must  needs,  in  all 
its  parts,  be  filled  from  that  immeasurable  sea:  so 
conceived  I  Thy  creation,  itself  finite,  full  of  Thee, 
the  Infinite ;  and  I  said,  Behold  God,  and  behold 
what  God  hath  created  ;  and  God  is  good,  yea,  most 
mightily  and  incomparably  better  than  all  these :  but 
yet  He,  the  Good,  created  them  good  :  and  see  how 
He  environs  and  full-fills  them.  Where  is  evil,  then  ? 
and  whence,  and  how  crept  it  in  hither?  What  is 
its  root,  and  what  its  seed?  Or,  hath  it  no  being? 
Why  then  fear  we  and  avoid  what  is  not?  Or,  if  we 
fear  it  idly,  then  is  that  very  fear  evil,  whereby  the 
soul  is  thus  idly  goaded  and  racked.  Yea,  and  so 
much  a  greater  evil,  as  we  have  nothing  to  fear,  and 
yet  do  fear.  Therefore  either  that  evil  which  we  fear 
actually  exists,  or  else  our  fear  is  evil.  Whence  is  evil, 
then  ?  seeing  God,  the  Good,  hath  created  all  these 
things  good.  He  indeed,  the  greater  and  chiefest 
Good,  hath  created  these  lesser  goods ;  still  both  Cre- 
ator and  created,  all  are  good.  Whence,  then,  is  evil  ? 
Was  there  some  evil  matter  out  of  which  He  made, 


152  TJie  problem  of  evil. 

and  formed,  and  ordered  these  lesser  goods,  yet  left 
something  in  this  matter  which  He  did  not  convert 
into  good  ?  Why  so,  then  ?  Had  He  no  might  to 
turn  and  change  the  whole,  so  that  no  evil  should 
remain  in  it,  seeing  He  is  All-mighty  ?  Lastly,  why 
would  He  make  anything  at  all  of  it,  and  not  rather 
by  the  same  Allmightiness  cause  it  not  to  be  at  all  ? 
Or,  could  it  then  be,  against  His  will  ?  Or,  if  it  were 
from  eternity,  why  suffered  He  it  so  to  be  for  infinite 
spaces  of  times  past,  and  was  pleased  so  long  after  to 
make  something  out  of  it  ?  Or,  if  He  were  suddenly 
pleased  now  to  effect  somewhat,  this  rather  should 
the  Almighty  have  effected,  that  this  evil  matter 
should  not  be,  and  He  alone  be,  the  whole,  true, 
sovereign  and  infinite  Good.  Or,  if  it  was  not  good 
that  He,  who  is  good,  should  not  also  frame  and 
create  something  that  were  good,  then,  that  evil 
matter  being  taken  away  and  brought  to  nothing, 
He  might  form  good  matter,  whereof  to  create  all 
things.  For  He  would  not  be  Almighty,  if  He  might 
not  create  something  good  without  the  aid  of  that 
matter  which  Himself  had  not  created.  These 
thoughts  I  revolved  in  my  miserable  heart,  over- 
charged with  the  most  gnawing  anxiety  lest  I  should 
die  ere  I  had  found  the  truth ;  yet  was  the  faith  of 
Thy  Christ  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  professed  in  the 
Church  Catholic,  firmly  fixed  in  my  heart,  in  many 
points,  although  yet  unformed,  and  fluctuating  from 
the  rule  of  doctrine ;  yet  my  mind  did  not  utterly 
leave  it,  but  rather  daily  took  in  more  and  more 
of  it. 


No  faith  to  be  placed  in  astrologers.         153 

VI.  8.  By  this  time,  also,  had  I  rejected  the  lying 
divinations  and  impious  dotages  of  the  astrologers. 
Let  Thine  own  mercies,  out  of  my  very  inmost  soul, 
confess  unto  Thee  for  this  also,  O  my  God.  For 
Thou,  Thou  altogether  (for  who  else  calls  us  back 
from  the  death  of  all  errors,  save  the  Life  which  can- 
not die,  and  the  Wisdom  which,  needing  no  light, 
enlightens  the  minds  that  need  it,  whereby  the 
universe  is  directed,  down  to  the  whirling  leaves 
of  trees?)  Thou  madest  provision  for  my  obstinacy 
wherewith  I  struggled  against  Vindicianus,1  an  acute 
old  man,  and  Nebridius,  a  young  man  of  admirable 
talents ;  the  first  vehemently  affirming,  and  the  latter 
often  (though  with  some  doubtfulness)  saying,  "That 
there  was  no  such  art  whereby  to  foresee  things  to 
come,  but  that  men's  conjectures  were  a  sort  of  lot- 
tery, and  that  out  of  many  things,  which  they  said 
should  come  to  pass,  some  actually  did,  unawares  to 
them  who  spake  it,  who  stumbled  upon  it,  through 
their  oft  speaking."  Thou  providest  then  a  friend 
for  me,  who  was  no  negligent  consulter  of  the  astrol- 
ogers ;  nor  yet  was  he  well  skilled  in  those  astrolog- 
ical arts,  but  (as  I  said)  a  curious  consulter  with 
astrologers  and  yet  knowing  something,  which  he 
said  he  had  heard  from  his  father,  which  how  far  it 
went  to  overthrow  the  estimation  of  that  art,  he 
knew  not.  This  man  then,  Finninus  by  name,  of 
liberal  education,  and  well  taught .  in  Rhetoric,  con- 
sulted me,  as  one  very  dear  to  him,  to  know  what, 
according  to  his  so-called  constellations,  I  thought  in 

l  See  B.  IV.  c.  iii. 


154         No  faith  to  be  placed  in  astrologers, 

regard  to  certain  affairs  of  his,  wherein  his  worldly 
hopes  had  risen ;  and  I,  who  had  now  begun  to  in- 
cline towards  Nebridius's  opinion,  did  not  altogether 
refuse  to  conjecture,  and  tell  him  what  carne  into  my 
unresolved  mind ;  but  added,  that  I  was  now  almost 
persuaded,  that  these  were  but  empty  and  ridiculous 
follies.  Thereupon  he  told  me  that  his  father  had 
been  very  curious  in  such  books,  and  had  a  friend  as 
earnest  in  them  as  himself,  who  with  joint  study  and 
conference  fanned  the  flame  of  their  affections  to 
these  toys,  so  that  they  would  observe  the  moments 
whereat  the  very  dumb  animals  which  bred  about 
their  houses  gave  birth,  and  then  observed  the  rela- 
tive position  of  the  heavens,  thereby  to  make  fresh 
experiments  in  this  so-called  art.  He  said  then  that 
he  had  heard  from  his  father,  that  when  his  mother 
was  about  to  give  birth  to  him,  Firminus,  a  woman- 
servant  of  that  friend  of  his  father's  was  also  with 
child,  a  fact  which  could  not  escape  her  master,  who 
took  care  with  most  exact  diligence  to  know  the 

O 

births  of  his  very  puppies.  And  it  so  happened,  that 
while  the  one  for  his  wife,  and  the  other  for  his  ser- 
vant, with  the  most  careful  observation,  was  reckon- 
ing days,  hours,  nay,  the  lesser  divisions  of  the  hours, 
both  women  were  delivered  at  the  same  instant ;  so 
that  both  were  constrained  to  allow  the  same  con- 
stellations, even  to  the  minutest  points,  the  one  for 
his  son,  the  other  for  his  new-born  slave.  For  so 
soon  as  the  women  began  to  be  in  labor,  each  gave 
notice  to  the  other  what  was  fallen  out  in  their 
houses,  and  had  messengers  ready  to  send  to  •  one 


Falsiiy  of  Astrology.  1 55 

another,  so  soon  as  they  had  notice  of  the  actual 
birth,  —  of  which  they  had  easily  provided,  each  in 
his  own  case,  to  receive  instant  intelligence.  And 
the  messengers  of  the  respective  parties  met,  he  aver- 
red, at  such  an  equal  distance  from  either  house, 
that  neither  of  them  could  make  out  any  difference 
in  the  position  of  the  stars,  or  any  other  minutest 
points ;  and  yet  Firminus,  born  in  a  high  estate  in 
his  parents'  house,  ran  his  course  through  the  gilded 
paths  of  life,  was  increased  in  riches,  raised  to  hon- 
ors; whereas  that  slave  continued  to  serve  his  mas- 
ters, without  any  relaxation  of  his  yoke,  as  Fir- 
minus,  who  knew  him,  told  me. 

9.  Upon  hearing  and  believing  these  things,  told 
by  one  of  such  credibility,  all  my  resistance  gave 
way;  and  first  I  endeavored  to  reclaim  Firminus 
himself  from  his  hankering  after  astrology,  by  tell- 
ing him  that  upon  inspecting  his  constellations,  I 
ought,  if  I  were  to  predict  truly,  to  have  seen  in 
them  parents  eminent  among  their  neighbors,  a  noble 
family  in  its  own  city,  high  birth,  good  education,  lib- 
eral learning.  But  if  that  servant  had  consulted  me 
upon  the  same  constellations,  since  they  were  his 
also,  I  ought  again  (if  I  would  tell  him,  too,  truly) 
to  see  in  them  a  lineage  the  most  abject,  a  slavish 
condition,  and  everything  else,  utterly  at  variance 
with  the  former.  Whence,  then,  if  I  spake  the 
truth,  I  should,  from  the  same  constellations,  speak 
diversely,  or  if  I  spake  the  same,  speak  falsely: 
thence  it  followed  most  certainly,  that  whatever, 
upon  consideration  of  the  constellations,  was  spoken 


156  Falsity  of  Astrology. 

truly,  was  spoken  not  out  of  art,  but  chance ;  and 
whatever  spoken  falsely,  was  not  out  of  ignorance 
in  the  ait,  but  the  failure  of  the  chance. 

10.  An  opening  thus  made,  ruminating  with  my- 
self on  the  like  things,  that  no  one  of  those  dotards 
(who  lived  by  such  a  trade,  and  whom  I  longed  to 
attack,  and  with  derision  to  confute)  might  urge 
against  me,  that  Firminus  had  informed  me  falsely, 
or  his  father  him ;  I  bent  my  thoughts  on  those  that 
are  born  twins,  who  for  the  most  part  come  out  of 
the  womb  so  near  one  to  other,  that  the  small  in- 
terval (how  much  force  soever  in  the  nature  of 
things  folk  may  pretend  it  to  have)  cannot  be  noted 
by  human  observation,  or  be  at  all  expressed  in 
those  figures  which  the  Astrologer  is  to  inspect, 
that  he  may  pronounce  truly.  Yet  they  cannot  be 
true :  for  looking  into  the  same  figures,  he  must 
have  predicted  the  same  of  Esau  and  Jacob,  where- 
as the  same  happened  not  to  them.  Therefore  he 
must  speak  falsely ;  or  if  truly,  then,  looking  into 
the  same  figures,  he  must  not  give  the  same  answer. 
Not  by  art,  then,  but  by  chance  would  he  speak 
truly.  For  Thou,  O  Lord,  most  righteous  Ruler  of 
the  Universe,  while  consulters  and  consulted  know 
it  not,  dost  by  Thy  hidden  inspiration  effect  that 
the  consulter  should  hear  what  according  to  the  hid- 
den deservings  of  souls,  he  ought  to  hear,  out  of  the 
abyss  of  Thy  just  judgment;  to  Whom  let  no  man 
say,  What  is  this?  Why  that?  Let  him  not  so  say, 
for  he  is  man. 

VII.  11.  Now  then,  O   my  Helper,  hadst   Thou 


Still  troubled  by  the  problem  of  evil.         157 

loosed  me  from  those  fetters  :  and  I  sought  "  whence 
is  evil,"  and  found  no  way.  But  Thou  sufferedst  me 
not  by  any  fluctuations  of  thought  to  be  earned 
away  from  the  Faith  whereby  I  believed  Thee  both 
to  be,  and  Thy  substance  to  be  unchangeable,  and 
that  Thou  hast  a  care  of,  and  wouldest  judge  men, 
and  that  in  Christ,  Thy  Son,  our  Lord,  and  the  holy 
Scriptures,  which  the  authority  of  Thy  Catholic 
Church  pressed  upon  me,  Thou  hadst  set  the  way 
of  man's  salvation,  to  that  life  which  is  to  be  after 
this  death.  These  things  being  safe  and  immovably 
settled  in  my  mind,  I  sought  anxiously  "  whence 
was  evil  ? "  What  were  the  pangs  of  my  teeming 
heart,  what  groans,  O  my  God !  yet  even  there  were 
Thine  ears  open,  and  I  knew  it  not:  and  when  in 
silence  I  vehemently  sought,  those  silent  contritions 
of  my  soul  were  strong  cries  unto  Thy  mercy.  Thou 
knewest  what  I  suffered,  but  no  man  knew.  For 
how  insignificant  was  that  which  was  through  my 
tongue  distilled  into  the  ears  of  my  most  familiar 
friends?  Could  the  whole  tumult  of  my  soul,  for 
which  neither  time  nor  utterance  sufficed,  reach 
them?  Yet  went  up  the  whole  to  Thy  hearing, 
all  which  I  roared  out  from  the  groanings  of  my 
heart ;  and  my  desire  was  befere  Thee,  but  the  light 
of  mine  eyes  was  not  with  me  ;*  for  that  was  within, 
I  without :  nor  was  that  confined  to  space,  but  I  was 
intent  on  things  contained  in  space,  and  in  space  I 
found  no  resting-place ;  nor  did  these  visible  things 
so  receive  me,  that  I  could  say  "  It  is  enough,"  M  it  is 

1  Ps.  xxxvii.  9—11.  Vulg. 
13 


158  Assisted  by  the  Platonists 

well:"  nor  did  they  yet  suffer  me  to  turn  back, 
Avhere  it  might  be  well  enough  with  me.  For  to 
these  things  was  I  superior,  but  inferior  to  Thee; 
and  Thou  art  my  true  joy  only  when  I  am  subjected 
to  Thee,  and  Thou  subjectest  to  me  only  what  Thou 
hast  created  below  me.  And  this  was  the  true  tem- 
perament, and  middle  region  of  my  safety,  to  remain 
in  Thy  image,  and  by  serving  Thee,  rule  the  body. 
But  when  I  rose  proudly  against  Thee,  and  ran 
ayaiiist  the  Lord  tcith  my  neck,  icith  the  thick  bosses 
of  my  buckler,  even  these  inferior  things  were  set 
above  me,  and  pressed  me  down,  and  no  where  was 
there  respite  or  space  of  breathing.  They  met  my 
bight  on  all  sides  by  heaps  and  troops,  and  in 
thought  the  images  thereof  presented  themselves 
unsought,  as  I  would  return  to  Thee,  as  if  they 
would  say  unto  me,  "  Whither  goest  thou,  unworthy 
and  defiled?"  And  these  things  had  grown  out 
of  my  wound ;  for  Thou  "  humblest  the  proud  like 
one  that  is  wounded,"2  and  through  my  own  swell- 
ing was  I  separated  from  Thee ;  yea,  my  pride- 
swollen  face  closed  up  mine  eyes. 

VIII.  12.  But  Thou,  Lord,  dbidest  for  ever,  yet 
not  for  ever  art  Thou  angry  with  us  ;z  because 
Thou  pitiest  our  dust  and  ashes,  and  it  was  pleas- 
ing in  Thy  sight  to  reform  my  deformities ;  and  by 
inward  goads  didst  Thou  rouse  me,  that  I  should 
be  ill  at  ease,  until  Thou  wert  manifested  to  my 
inward  sight.  Thus,  by  the  secret  hand  of  thy 
medicining  was  my  swelling  abated,  and  the  trou- 

l  Job  xr.  26.  2  Ts.  Ixxxviii.  11.    Vulg.  3  ps.  cii.  13. 


to  recognize  the  Logos.  159 

bled  and  bedimmed  eye-sight  of  my  mind,  by  the 
smarting  anointings  of  healthful  sorrows,  was  from 
day  to  day  healed. 

IX.  13.  And  Thou,  willing  first  to  shew  me  how 
Thou  resistest  the  proud,  but  givest  grace  unto  the 
humble?  and  by  how  great  an  act  of  Thy  mercy 
Thou  hast  traced  out  to  men  the  way  of  humility, 
in  that  Thy  WOKD  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt 
among  men:  —  Thou  procuredst  for  me,  by  means 
of  one  puffed  up  with  most  unnatural  pride,  certain 
books  of  the  Platonists,  translated  from  Greek  into 
Latin.  And  therein  I  read,  not  indeed  in  the  very 
words,  but  to  the  very  same  purpose,  enforced  by 
many  and  divers  reasons,  that  In  the  beginning  was 
the  Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  God,  and  the 
Word  was  God:  the  Same  was  in  the  beginning  with 
God:  all  things  were  made  by  Him,  and  without 
Sim  was  nothing  made:  that  which  was  made  by 
Him  is  life,  and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men,  and 
the  light  shineth  in  the  darkness,  and  the  darkness 
comprehended  it  not?  And  that  the  soul  of  man, 
though  it  bears  witness  to  the  light,  yet  itself  is  not 
that  light  •  but  the  Word  of  God,  being  God,  is  that 
true  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into 
the  world?  And  that  He  was  in  the  world,  and  the 
world  icas  made  by  Him,  and  the  world  knew  him 
not.*  But,  that  He  came  unto  His  oicn,  and  His 
own  received  Him  not  /5  but  as  many  as  received 
Him,  to  them  gave  He  power  to  become  the  sons  of 

1  James  iv.  6.  1  Pet.  v.  5.      3  John  i.  9.      6  John  i.  11. 

2  John  i.  1  — 5.  <  John  i.  10. 


1 60     Comparison  of  Platonism  with  Scripture. 

God,  as  many  as  believed  in  his  name;1  this  I  read 
not  there. 

14.  Again  I  read  there,  that  God  the  Word  was 
born  not  of  flesh  nor  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of 
man,  nor  of  the  icitt  of  the  flesh,  but  of  God?  But 
tli  at  the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us,3 
I  read  not  there.  For  I  traced  in  those  Platouic 
books,  that  it  was  many  and  divers  ways  said  that 
the  Son  was  in  the  form  of  the  Father,  and  thought 
it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,  for  that  naturally 
Pie  was  the  Same  Substance.  But  that  He  emptied 
himself,  taking  the  form  of  a  servant,  being  made  in 
the  likeness  of  men,  and  found  in  fashion  as  a  man, 
humbled  Himself ,  and  became  obedient  unto  death, 
and  tJiat  the  death  of  the  cross :  wherefore  God  ex- 
alted Him  from  the  dead,  and  gave  Him  a  name 
above  every  name,  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every 
knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  in 
earth,  and  things  under  the  earth  ;  and  that  every 
tongue  should  confess  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is 
in  the  glory  of  God  the  Father  /*  those  Platonic 
books  have  not.  For  that  before  all  times  and 
above  alj  times  Thy  Only-Begotten  Son  remaineth 
unchangeably,  coeternal  with  Thee,  and  that  of  His 
fulness  souls  receive,5  that  they  may  be  blessed ;  and 
that  by  participation  of  wisdom  abiding  in  them, 
they  are  renewed,  so  as  to  be  wise,  is  there.  But 
that  in  due  time  he  died  for  the  ungodly  /6  and  that 
Thou  sparedst  not  Thine  Only  Son,  but  deliveredest 

1  John  i.  12.         3  John  i.  14.         5  John  i.  16. 

2  John  i.  13.         <  Phil.  ii.  6—11.      6  Rom.  v.  6. 


Inwardly  taught  by  God.  161 

Him  for  us  all,1  is  not  there.  For  Thou  hiddest 
these  things  from  the  wise,  and  revealedst  them  to 
babes;  that  they  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
might  come  unto  Him,  and  He  refresh  them,  because 
He  is  meek  and  lowly  in  heart  /*  and  the  meek  He 
directeth  in  judgment,  and  the  gentle  He  teachtth  His 
ways?  beholding  our  lowliness  and  trouble,  and  for- 
giving all  our  sins.4  But  such  as  are  lifted  up  by 
the  buskin  of  some  would-be  sublimer  learning,  hear 
not  Him,  saying,  Learn  of  Me,  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to  your  souls.5 
Although  they  knoio  God,  yet  they  glorify  Him  not 
as  God,  nor  are  thankful,  but  wax  vain  in  their 
thoughts  ;  and  their  foolish  heart  is  darkened  ;  pro- 
fessing that  they  are  wise,  they  become  fools? 

15.  And  therefore  did  I  read  there  also,  that  they 
had  changed  the  glory  of  Thy  incorruptible  nature 
into  idols  and  divers  shapes,  into  thf  likeness  of  the 
image  of  corruptible  man,  and  birds  and  beasts,  and 
creeping  things  /7  hankering  after  that  Egyptian 
food,8  for  which  Esau  lost  his  birth-right,9  since  Thy 
first-born  people  worshipped  the  head  of  a  four- 
footed  beast  instead  of  Thee,10  turning  back  in  heart 
towards  Egypt,  and  bowing  Thy  image,  their  own 
soul,  before  the  image  of  a  calf  that  eateth  hay.n 
These  things  found  I  here,  but  I  fed  not  on  them. 
For  it  pleased  Thee,  O  Lord,  to  take  away  the  re- 

1  Rom.  viii.  32.  «  Matt,  xi  29.  9  Gen.  xxv.  33,  34. 

2  Matt.  xi.  25,  28,  29.      G  Rom.  i.  21,  22.          10  Ex.  xxxii.  1—6. 

3  Ps.  xxv.  9.  7  Rom.  i  23.  11  Ps.  cvi.  20. 

•*  Ps.  xxv.  18.      8  The  lentil ;  compare  Augustine  Enarrado  in  Ps.  xlvi. 


162  Inwardly  taught  by  God. 

proach  of  diminution  from  Jacob,  that  the  elder 
should  serve  the  younger:1  and  Thou  callest  the 
Gentiles  into  Thine  inheritance.  And  I  had  come 
to  Thee  from  among  the  Gentiles ;  and  I  set  my 
mind  upon  the  gold  which  Thou  willedst  Thy  peo- 
ple to  take  from  Egypt,  seeing  Thine  it  was,  where- 
soever it  were.2  And  to  the  Athenians  Thou  saidst 
by  Thy  Apostle,  that  in  Thee  ice  live,  move,  and 
have  our  being,  as  one  of  their  own  poets  had  said.3 
And  verily  these  Platonic  books  came  from  thence. 
But  I  set  not  my  mind  on  the  idols  of  Egypt,  whom 
they  served  with  Thy  gold,*  who  changed  the  truth 
of  God  into  a  lie,  and  worshipped  and  served  the 
creature  more  than  the  Creator.5 

X.  16.  And  being  thence  admonished"  to  return  to 
myself,  I  entered  even  into  my  inward  self,  Thou 
being  my  Guide  :  and  I  was  able  to  do  so  because 
Thou  wert  became  my  Helper.  And  I  entered  and 
beheld  with  the  eye  of  my  soul,  (such  as  it  was,) 
even  above  my  soul,  above  my  mind,  —  the  Light 
Unchangeable.  Not  this  ordinary  light,  which  all 
flesh  may  look  upon,  nor  as  it  were  a  greater  of  the 
same  kind,  as  though  the  brightness  of  this  should 
be  manifold  brighter,  and  with  its  greatness  take  up 
all  space.  Not  such  was  this  light,  but  different,  far 
different  from  all  these.  Nor  was  it  above  my  soul, 
as  oil  is  above  water,  nor  yet  as  heaven  above  earth  : 
but  above  my  soul,  because  It  made  me ;  and  I 
below  It,  because  I  was  made  by  It.  He  that  knows 

1  Rom  ix  13.  3  Acts  xvii.  28.  «  Eom.  i.  25. 

!  Exod.  iii.  22 .  xi.  2.      4  Hoa  ii  8. 


Contemplation  of  God.  163 

the  Truth,  knows  what  that  Light  is ;  and  he  that 
knows  It,  knows  eternity.  Love  knoweth  it.  O 
Truth  Who  art  Eternity !  and  Love  Who  art  Truth ! 
and  Eternity  Who  art  Love !  Thou  art  my  God,  to 
Thee  do  I  sigh  night  and  day.  When  I  first  knew 
Thee,  Thou  liftedst  me  up,  that  I  might  see  there 
was  somewhat  for  me  to  see,  and  that  I  was  not  yet 
able  to  see.  And  Thou  didst  beat  back  the  weak- 
ness of  my  sight,  streaming  forth  Thy  beams  of  light 
upon  me  most  strongly,  and  I  trembled  with  love 
and  awe  :  and  I  perceived  myself  to  be  far  off  from 
Thee,  in  the  region  of  unlikeness,  as  if  I  heard  this 
Thy  voice  from  on  high :  "  I  am  the  food  of  grown 
men ;  grow,  and  thou  shalt  feed  upon  Me ;  nor  shalt 
thou  convert  Me,  like  the  food  of  thy  flesh,  into 
thee,  but  thou  shalt  be  converted  into  Me."  And  I 
learned,  that  Tfiou  for  iniquity  chastenest  man,  and 
Thou  madest  my  soul  to  consume  away  like  a  spider* 
And  I  said,  "Is  Truth  therefore  nothing  because  it  is 
not  diffused  through  space  finite  or  infinite  ?  "  And 
Thou  criedst  to  me  from  afar;  "Yea,  verily,  I  AM 
that  I  AM?*  And  I  heard,  as  the  heart  heareth, 
nor  had  I  room  to  doubt,  and  I  should  sooner  doubt 
that  I  live,  than  that  Truth  is  not,  which  is  clearly 
seen^  being  understood  by  those  things  which  are 
made? 

XI.  17.  And  I  beheld  the  other  things  below 
Thee,  and  I  perceived  that  they  neither  altogether 
are,  nor  altogether  are  not ;  for  they  are,  since  they 
are  from  Thee,  but  are  not,  because  they  are  not 

l  Ps.  xxxix.  11.  2  Exod.  iii.  14.  3  ROm.  i.  20. 


164  Evil  not  a  substance. 

what  Thou  art.  For  that  truly  is  which  remains 
unchangeably.  It  is  good  then  for  me  to  hold  fast 
unto  God  y1  for  if  I  remain  not  in  Him,  I  cannot  in 
myself;  but  He  remaining  in  Himself,  reneweth  all 
things?  And  Thou  art  the  Lord  my  God,  since 
Thou  standest  not  in  need  of  my  goodness? 

XII.  18.  And  it  was  manifested  unto  me,  that 
those  things  are  good  which  yet  are  corruptible ; 
which  if  they  were  sovereignly  good,  or  if  they  were 
not  at  all  good,  could  not  be  corrupted :  for  if  sover- 
eignly good,  they  were  incorruptible;  if  not  good 
at  all,  there  were  nothing  in  them  to  be  corrupted. 
For  corruption  injures,  but  unless  it  diminished  good- 
ness, it  could  not  injure.  Either  then  corruption  in- 
jures not,  which  cannot  be ;  or,  which  is  most  cer- 
tain, all  which  is  corrupted  is  deprived  of  good. 
But  if  they  be  deprived  of  all  good,  they  shall  cease 
to  be.  For  if  they  shall  be,  and  can  now  no  longer 
be  corrupted,  they  shall  be  better  than  before,  be- 
cause  they  shall  abide  incorruptibly.  And  what 
more  monstrous,  than  to  affirm  things  to  become 
better  by  losing  all  their  good?  Therefore  if  they 
shall  be  deprived  of  all  good,  they  shall  no  longer 
be.  So  long  therefore  as  they  are,  they  are  good : 
therefore  whatsoever  substantially  is,  is  good.  That 
evil  then  which  I  sought  to  know  whence  it  is,  is 
not  any  substance :  for  were  it  a  substance,  it  should 
be  good.  For  either  it  should  be  an  incorruptible 
substance,  and  so  a  chief  good,  or  a  corruptible  sub- 
stance ;  which  unless  it  were  good,  could  not  be  cor- 

1  Ps.  Ixxiii.  28.  2  Wisd.  vii.  27.    '  3  Ps.  xvi.  1. 


All  things  praise  God,.  165 

rupted.  I  perceived  therefore,  and  it  was  manifested 
to  me,  that  Thou^  madest  all  things  good,  nor  is 
there  any  substance  at  all,  which  Thou  madest  not; 
and  because  Thou  madest  not  all  things  equal,  there- 
fore is  there  a  diversity  of  things ;  for  each  is  good, 
and  all  together  are  very  good,  because  our  God 
made  all  things  very  good.1 

XIII.  19.  And  to  Thee  is  nothing  whatsoever  evil: 
yea,  not  only  to  Thee,  but  also  to  Thy  creation  as 
a  whole,  because  there  is  nothing  without,  which 
may  break  in  and  corrupt  that  order  which  Thou 
hast  appointed.  But  in  the  parts  thereof,  some 
things,  because  unharmonizing  with  other  some,  are 
accounted  evil:  whereas  those  very  things  harmo- 
nize with  others,  and  are  good;  and  in  themselves 
are  good.  And  all  these  things  which  harmonize 
not  together,  do  yet  harmonize  with  the  inferior  part, 
which  we  call  Earth,  which  has  its  own  cloudy  and 
windy  sky  harmonizing  with  it.  Far  be  it  then  that 
I  should  say,  "  These  things  should  not  be  : "  for 
should  I  see  nought  but  these,  I  should  long  for 
the  better;  but  still  I  must  even  for  these  alone 
praise  Thee;  for  that  Thou  art  to  be  praised  do 
shew  from  the  earth,  dragons,  and  all  deeps,  fire, 
hail,  snow,  ice,  and  stormy  wind,  which  fulfil  T/ty 
word.  Mountains,  and  all  hills,  fruitful  trees,  and 
all  cedars,  beasts,  and  all  cattle,  creeping  things,  and 
flying  fowls,  kings  of  the  earth,  and  all  people, 
princes  and  all  judges  of  the  earth,  young  men  and 
maidens,  old  men  and  young,  praise  Thy  Name. 

1  Gen.  i.  31;  Eccli.  \.\\i\. 


1C6  -  All  things  praise  God, 

But  when  from  heaven  Thy  works  praise  Thee,  our 
God,  all  Thy  angels  in  the  heights,  all  Thy  hosts,  sun 
and  moon,  all  the  stars  and  light,  the  Heaven  of 
heavens,  and  the  waters  that  be  above  the  heavens, 
praise  Thy  Name.1  I  did  not  now  long  for  things 
better,  because  I  thought  of  all :  and  with  a  sounder 
judgment  I  apprehended  that  the  things  above  were 
better  than  these  below,  yet  that  all  together  were 
better  than  those  above  by  themselves. 

XIV.  20.  There  is  no  soundness  in  them,  whom 
aught  of  Thy  creation  displeaseth :  as  neither  in  me, 
when  much  which  Thou  hast  made  displeased  me. 
And   because  my  soul  durst  not  be  displeased   at 
my  God,  it  would  fain  not  account  that  to  be  Thine, 
which  displeased  it.     Hence  it  had  gone  into  the 
opinion   of  two   substances,  and  had  "no   rest,  but 
talked  idly.     And  returning  thence,  it  had  made  to 
itself  a  God  through  infinite  measures  of  all  space ; 
and   thought  it   to  be  Thee,  and   placed   it  in  its 
heart ;  and  had  again  become  the  temple  of  its  own 
idol,  to  Thee  abominable.     But  after  Thou  hadst 
soothed  my  head,  unknown  to  me,  and  closed  mine 
eyes  that  they  should  not  behold  vanity,2  I  ceased 
somewhat   of  my  former   self,  and   my  frenzy  was 
lulled   to   sleep ;   and  I   awoke   in   Thee,  and   saw 
Thee  infinite,  but  in  another  way,  and   this  sight 
was  not  derived  from  the  flesh. 

XV.  21.  And  I  looked  back  on  other  things;  and 
I  saw  that   they  owed   their  being   to  Thee ;   and 
were  all  bounded  in  Thee :  but  in  a  different  way, 

l  Ps.  cxlviii.  1—12.  2  Pa.  cxix.  37. 


and  are  contained  in  God.  1 67 

not  as  being  in  space,  but  because  Thou  containest 
all  things  in  Thine  hand,  in  Thy  Truth;  and  all 
things  are  true  so  far  as  they  be ;  nor  is  there  any 
falsehood,  unless  when  that  is  thought  to  be,  which 
is  not.  And  I  saw  that  all  things  did  harmonize, 
not  with  their  places  only,  but  with  their  seasons. 
And  thou,  who  only  art  Eternal,  didst  not  begin  to 
work  after  innumerable  spaces  of  times  spent;  for 
that  all  spaces  of  times,  both  which  have  passed,  and 
which  shall  pass,  neither  go  nor  come  but  through 
Thee  working  and  abiding. 

XVI.  22.  And  I  perceived'  and  found  it  nothing 
strange,  that  bread  which  is  pleasant  to  a  healthy 
palate,  is  loathsome  to  one  distempered  :  and  to  sore 
eyes  light  is  offensive,  which  to  the  sound  eye  is 
delightful.    And  Thy  righteousness  displeaseth  the 
wicked ;   much  more  the  viper  and  reptiles,  which 
Thou  hast  created  good,  fitting  in  with  the  infe- 
rior portions  of  Thy  Creation,  with  which  the  very 
wicked  also  fit  in ;  and  that  the  more,  by  how  much 
they  be  unlike  Thee  ;  but  with  the  superior  crea- 
tures, by  how  much  they  become  more  like  to  Thee. 
And  I  enquired  what  iniquity  was,  and  found  it  to 
be   no   substance,  but  the   perversion   of  the  will, 
turned  aside  from  Thee,  O  God,  the  Supreme,  to- 
wards these  lower  things,  and  casting  out  its  bowels, 
and  puffed  up  outwardly. 

XVII.  23.  And   I  wondered   that  I  now  loved 
Thee,  and  no  phantasm  for  Thee.     And  yet  did  I 
not  press  on  to  enjoy  my  God ;  but  was  borne  up 
to  Thee  by  Thy  beauty,  and  soon  borne  down  from 


1 68  Augustine's  psychology. 

Thee  by  mine  own  weight,  sinking  with  sorrow  into 
infeiior  things.  This  weight  was  carnal  custom. 
Yet  dwelt  there  with  me  a  remembrance  of  Thee ; 
nor  did  I  any  way  doubt,  that  there  was  One  to 
whom  I  might  cleave,  but  that  I  was  not  yet  such 
as  to  cleave  to  Thee  :  because  the  body  which  is  cor- 
rupted, presseth  down  the  soul,  and  the  earthly  tab- 
ernacle weigheth  down  the  mind  that  museth  upon 
many  things*  And  most  certain  I  was,  that  Thy 
invisible  works  from  the  creation  of  the  world  are 
clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are 
made,  even  Thy  eternal  power  and  Godhead?  For 
examining  whence  it  was  that  I  admired  the  beauty 
of  bodies  celestial  or  terrestrial ;  and  what  aided 
me  in  judging  soundly  on  things  mutable,  and  pro- 
nouncing, "  This  ought  to  be  thus,  this  not ; "  exam- 
ining, I  say,  whence  it  was  that  I  so  judged,  seeing 
I  did  so  judge,  I  had  found  the  unchangeable  and 
true  Eternity  of  Truth,  above  my  changeable  mind. 
And  thus  by  degrees,  I  passed  from  bodies  to  the 
soul  which  through  the  bodily  senses  perceives ;  and 
thence  to  its  inward  faculty,  to  which  the  bodily 
senses  represent  things  external,  whitherto  reaches 
the  faculties  of  beasts;  and  thence  again  to  the 
reasoning  faculty,  to  which  what  is  received  from 
the  senses  of  the  body  is  referred  to  be  judged. 
Which  finding  itself  also  to  be  in  me  a  thing  varia- 
ble, raised  itself  up  to  its  own  understanding,  and 
drew  away  my  thoughts  from  the  power  of  habit, 
withdrawing  itself  from  those  troops  of  contradic- 

i  Wisd  ix.  15.  2  Rom.  i.  20. 


Ills  dim  apprehension  of  the  Logos.        1G9 

tory  phantasms ;  that  so  it  might  find  what  that 
light  was,  whereby  it  was  bedewed,  when,  without 
all  doubting,  it  cried  out,  "That  the  unchangeable 
was  to  be  preferred  to  the  changeable ; "  whence 
also  it  knew  That  Unchangeable,  which,  unless  it 
had  in  some  way  known,  it  had  had  no  sure  ground 
to  prefer  it  to  the  changeable.  And  thus  with  the 
flash  of  one  trembling  glance  it  arrived  at  THAT 
WHICH  Is.  And  then  I  saw  Thy  invisible  things 
understood  by  the  things  which  are  made.1  But  I 
could  not  fix  my  gaze  thereon;  and  my  infirmity 
being  struck  back,  I  was  thrown  again  on  my  wonted 
habits,  carrying  along  with  me  only  a  loving  mem- 
ory thereof,  and  a  longing  for  what  I  had,  as  it  were, 
perceived  the  odor  of,  but  was  not  yet  able  to  feed 
on. 

XVIII.  24.  Then  I  sought  a  way  of  obtaining 
strength,  sufficient  to  enjoy  Thee ;  and  found  it  not, 
until  I  embraced  that  Mediator  betwixt  God  and* 
men,  the  Man  Christ  Jesus?  who  is  over  all,  God 
blessed  for  evermore?  calling  unto  me,  and  saying,  I 
am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,4  and  mingling 
that  food  which  I  was  unable  to  receive,  with  our 
flesh,  for,  the  Word  was  made  flesh,5  that  Thy 
Wisdom,  whereby  Thou  createdst  all  things,  might 
provide  milk  for  our  infant  state.  For  not  being 
humbled,  I  did  not  understand  the  humiliation  of 
my  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  nor  knew  I  yet  whereto  His 
infirmity  would  guide  us.  For  Thy  Word,  the  Eter- 

1  Rom.  i.  20.  3  Rom.  ix.  5.  «  Ib.  i.  14. 

2  1  Tim  ii.  5.  4  John  xiv.  6. 


170  Learns  to  understand 

nal  Truth,  being  fur  above  Thy  highest  creatures, 
raises  up  the  subdued  unto  Itself:  but  in  this  lower 
world  It  built  for  Itself  a  lowly  habitation  of  our 
clay,  whereby  to  abase  from  themselves  such  a& 
would  be  subdued,  and  bring  them  over  to  Itself; 
allaying  their  swelling  pride,  and  fomenting  their 
love ;  that  they  might  go  on  no  further  in  self-con- 
fidence, but  rather  consent  to  become  weak,  on  see- 
ing at  their  feet  the  Divinity  infirm  by  having  taken 
on  our  coats  of  skin- l  and  wearied,  might  cast  them- 
selves down  upon  It,  and  It  rising,  might  lift  them 
up. 

XIX.  25.  But  I  thought  otherwise ;  conceiving 
only  of  my  Lord  Christ  as  of  a  man  of  excellent 
wisdom,  whom  no  one  could  be  equalled  unto ;  espe- 
cially, for  that  being  wonderfully  born  of  a  Virgin, 
He  seemed,  in  conformity  therewith,  through  the 
Divine  care  for  us,  to  have  attained  that  great  emi- 
•  nence  of  authority,  for  an  ensample  of  despising 
things  temporal  for  the  obtaining  of  immortality. 
But  what  mystery  there  lay  in,  "The  Word  teas 
made  flesh"  I  could  not  even  imagine.  Only  I  had 
learnt  out  of  what  is  delivered  to  us  in  Scripture 
of  Him,  that  He  did  eat,  and  drink,  sleep,  walk, 
rejoiced  in  spirit,  was  sorrowful,  discoursed ;  that, 
flesh  did  not  cleave  by  itself  unto  Thy  Word,  but 
with  the  human  soul  and  mind.  All  know  this, 
who  know  the  unchangeableness  of  Thy  TVord, 
which  I  now  knew,  as  far  as  I  could,  nor  did  I  at  all 
doubt  thereof.  For,  now  to  move  the  limbs  of  the 
body  by  will,  now  not,  now  to  be  moved  by  some  af- 

l  Gen.  iii  21. 


the  Person  of  Christ.  171 

faction,  now  not,  now  to  deliver  wise  sayings  through 
human  signs,  now  to  keep  silence,  belong  to  soul  and 
mind  subject  to  variation.  And  should  these  things 
prove  to  be  falsely  written  of  Him,  all  the  rest  of 
Scripture  also  would  be  put  in  jeopardy,  nor  would 
there  remain  in  those  books  any  saving  faith  for 
mankind.  Since  then  they  were  written  truly,  I 
acknowledged  a  perfect  man  to  be  in  Christ ;  not 
the  body  of  a  man  only,  nor,  with  the  body,  a  sensi- 
tive soul  without  a  rational,  but  very  man ;  whom, 
not  only  as  being  a  form  of  Truth,  but  for  a  certain 
great  excellency  of  human  nature  and  more  perfect 
participation  of  wisdom,  I  judged  to  be  preferred 
before  others.  But  Alypius  imagined  the  Catholics 
to  believe  God  to  be  so  clothed  with  flesh,  that  be- 
sides God  and  flesh,  there  was  no  soul  at  all  in 
Christ,  and  did  not  think  that  a  human  mind  was 
ascribed  to  Him.  And  because  he  was  well  per- 
suaded, that  the  actions  recorded  of  Him,  could 
only  be  performed  by  a  vital  and  a  rational  crea- 
ture, he  moved  the  more  slowly  towards  the  Chris- 
tian Faith.  But  understanding  afterwards,  that  this 
was  the  error  of  the  Apollinarian  heretics,  he  joyed 
in  and  was  conformed  to  the  Catholic  Faith.  But 
somewhat  later,  I  confess,  did  I  learn,  how  in  that 
saying,  The  Word  was  made  flesh,  the  Catholic 
truth  is  distinguished  from  the  falsehood  of  Pho- 
tinus.1  For  the  rejection  of  heretics  makes  the  te- 
nets of  Thy  Church,  and  sound  doctrines,  to  stand 
out  more  clearly.  For  there  must  also  be  heresies, 

1  Guericke'g  Church  History,  §  84. 


172  Receives  great  assistance 

that  the  approved  may  be  made  manifest  among  the 
weak.1 

XX.  26.  But  having  then  read  those  books  of  the 
Platonists,  and  thence  been  taught  to  search  for  in- 
corporeal truth,  I  saw  Thy  invisible  things,  under- 
stood by  those  things  which  are  made  ^  and  though 
cast  back,  I  perceived  what  that  was,  which,  through 
the  darkness  of  my  mind,  I  was  hindered  from  con- 
templating, being  assured  "  that  Thou  art,  and  art 
infinite,  and  yet  not  diffused  in  space,  finite  or  infi- 
nite; and  that  Thou  truly  art  who  art  the  same 
ever,  in  no  part  nor  motion  varying ;  and  that  all 
other  things  are  from  Thee,  on  this  most  sure  ground 
alone,  that  they  are."  Of  these  things  I  was  assured, 
yet  too  unsure  to  enjoy  Thee.  I  prated  as  one  well 
skilled ;  but  had  I  not  sought  Thy  way  in  Christ  our 
Saviour,  I  had  proved  to  be,  not  skilled,  but  killed. 
For  now  I  had  begun  to  wish  to  seem  wise,  being 
filled  with  mine  own  'punishment,  yet  I  did  not 
mourn,  but  rather  scorn,  puffed  up  with  knowl- 
edge.3 For  where  was  that  charity  building  upon 
the  foundation  of  humility,  which  is  Christ  Jesus?* 
or  when  should  these  Platonic  books  teach  me  it? 
Upon  these,  I  believe,  Thou  therefore  willedst  that 
I  should  fall,  before  I  studied  Thy  Scriptures,  that 
it  might  be  imprinted  on  my  memory  how  I  was 
affected  by  them ;  and  that  afterwards,  when  my 
spirits  were  tamed  through  Thy  books,  and  my 
wounds  touched  by  Thy  healing  fingers,  I  might 

1 1  Cor.  xi  19.  3  1  Cor.  viii.  1. 

2  Eom.  i.  20.  <1  Cor.  iii.  11. 


from  the  writings  of  St.  Paul.  173 

discern  and  distinguish  between  presumption  and 
confession ;  between  those  who  saw  whither  they 
were  to  go,  yet  saw  not  the  way,  —  a  way  that  lead- 
eth  not  merely  to  behold  the  beatific  country,  but  to 
dwell  in  it.  For,  had  I  first  been  formed  in.  Thy 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  hadst  Thou  in  the  familiar  use 
of  them  grown  sweet  unto  me,  and  had  I  then 
fallen  upon  those  other  volumes,  they  might  per- 
haps have  withdrawn  me  from  the  solid  ground  of 
piety ;  or,  had  I  continued  in  that  healthful  frame 
which  I  had  thence  imbibed,  I  might  have  thought 
that  it  might  have  been  obtained  by  the  study  of 
the  Platonic  books  alone. 

XXI.  27.  Most  eagerly,  then,  did  I  seize  that 
venerable  writing  of  Thy  Spirit,  and  chiefly  the 
Apostle  Paul ;  whereupon  those  difficulties  vanished 
away  wherein  he  once  seemed  to  me  to  contradict 
himself,  and  the  text  of  his  discourse  not  to  agree 
with  the  testimonies  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets. 
And  the  face  of  that  pure  word  appeared  to  me  one 
and  the  same ;  and  I  learned  to  rejoice  with  trem- 
bling* So  I  began  ;  and  whatsoever  truth  I  had 
read  in  those  other  books,  I  found  here  amid  the 
praises  of  Thy  grace ;  that  whoso  sees,  may  not  so 
glory  as  if  he  had  not  received?  not  only  what  he 
sees,  but  also  that  he  sees  (for  what  hath  he,  which 
he  hath  not  received?),  and  that  he  may  be  not  only 
admonished  to  behold  Thee,  Who  art  ever  the  same, 
but  also,  being  healed,  to  hftld  Thee ;  and  that  he 
who  cannot  see  afar  off,  may  yet  walk  on  the  way, 

l  Ps.  ii.  11.  2  1  Cor.  iv.  7. 

14 


174  Plato's  writings  and 

whereby  he  may  arrive,  and  behold,  and  hold  Thee. 
For,  though  a  man  be  delighted  with  the  law  of  God 
after  the  inner  man?  what  shall  he  do  with  that 
other  law  in  his  members  which  icarreth  against  the 
law  of  his  mind,  and  bringeth  him  into  captivity  to 
the  law  of  sin  which  is  in  his  members?2  For  Thou 
art  righteous,  0  Lord  ;  but  we  have  sinned,  and  com- 
mitted iniquity,  and  have  done  wickedly?  and  Thy 
hand  is  grown  heavy  upon  us,  and  we  are  justly  de- 
livered over  unto  that  ancient  sinner,  the  king  of 
death ;  because  he  persuaded  our  will  to  be  like  his 
will,  whereby  he  abode  not  in  Thy  truth.  What 
shaU  wretched  man  do  f  who  shall  deliver  him  from 
the  body  of  this  death,  but  only  Thy  grace,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord*  whom  Thou  hast  begotten 
coeternal,  and  formedst  in  the  beginning  of  Thy 
ways?  in  whom  the  prince  of  this  world  found  noth- 
ing worthy  of  death?  yet  killed  he  Him ;  and  the 
handwriting,  ichich  icas  contrary  to  us,  was  blot- 
ted out?7  This  the  Platonic  writings  contain  not. 
Those  pages  present  not  the  image  of  this  piety,  the 
tears  of  confession,  Thy  sacrifice,  a  troubled  spirit,  a 
broken  and  a  contrite  heart,9  the  salvation  of  the 
people,  the  Bridal  City?  the  earnest  of  the  Holy 

Ghost?0  the  Cup  of  our  Redemption.11  No  man 
sings  there,  Shall  not  my  soul  be  submitted  unto 

God?  for  of  Him  cometh  my  salvation.    For  He  is 

1  Rom.  vii.  22.  «  Prov.  viii.  22.  8  Ts.  li.  17. 

2  Rom.  vii.  23.  e^Jphn  xiv.  30.  9  Rev.  xxi.  2. 

3  Song  of  the  Three  Children,  4  sqq.  10  2  Cor.  v.  5. 
<  Bom.  vii.  24.                  ">  Col.  ii.  14.  11  Ps.  cxvi.  U 


the  Scriptures.  175 


my  God  and  my  salvation,  my  guardian,  I  shall  no 
more  be  moved.1  No  one  hears  Him  call  in  those 
books,  Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labor?  They  scorn 
to  learn  of  Him,  because  He  is  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart ;  for  these  things  hast  Thou  hid  from  the  wise 
and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes? 
For  it  is  one  thing,  from  the  mountain's  shaggy  top 
to  see  the  land  of  peace,  and  to  find  no  way  thither,4 
and  in  vain  to  strive  towards  it  through  paths  im- 
passable, opposed  and  beset  by  fugitives  and  desert- 
ers led  by  their  captain  the  lion  and  the  dragon;  and 
quite  another  thing  to  keep  on  the  way  that  leads 
thither,  guarded  by  the  hosts  of  the  heavenly  Gen- 
eral, where  those  who  have  deserted  the  heavenly 
army  spoil  and  rob  not,  for  they  avoid  that  army 
as  very  torment  itself.  These  things  did  wonder- 
fully sink  into  my  heart,  when  I  read  that  least  of 
Tliy  Apostles,6  and  meditated  upon  Thy  works,  and 
trembled  exceedingly.  • 

1  PB.  Ixii.  1,  2.  3  Matt  xi.  29.  6  I  Cor.  xv.  ». 

2  Matt.  xi.  28.  4  Dmt .  xxxii.  49. 


THE  EIGHTH  BOOK. 

AUGUSTINE'S  THIRTY-SECOND  YEA»— HE  CONSULTS  SIMPLICIANUS— 
FROM  HIM  HE  HEARS  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CONVERSION  OF  VICTO- 
RINU8,  AND  LONGS  TO  DEVOTE  HIMSELF  ENTIRELY  TO  GOD,  BUT  IS 
HASTERED  BY  HIS  OLD  HABITS  — IS  STILL  FURTHER  ROUSED  BY  THB 
HISTORY  OF  ANTONY,  AND  THE  CONVERSION  OF  TWO  COURTIERS  — 

DURING  A  SEVERE  STRUGGLE,  HEARS  A'  VOICE  FROM  HEAVEN, 
OPENS  SCRIPTURE,  AND  IS  CONVERTED,  WITH  HIS  FRIEND  ALYP- 
IUS  —  HIS  MOTHER'S  VISION  FULFILLED. 

I.  O  my  God !  let  me,  with  thanksgiving,  remem- 
ber, and  confess  unto  Thee  Thy  mercies  to  me.  Let 
my  bones  be  bedewed  with  Thy  love,  and  let  them 
say  unto  Thee,  Who  is  like  unto  Thee,  O  Lord?1 
Thou  hast  broken  my  bonds  in  sunder,  I  will  offer 
unto  Thee  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving?  And  how 
Thou  hast  broken  them,  I  will  declare;  and  all  who 
worship  Thee,  when  they  hear  this,  shall  say,  "Bles- 
sed be  the  Lord,  in  heaven  and  in  earth,  great  and 
wonderful  is  his  name."  Thy  words  had  stuck  fast 
in  my  heart,  and  I  was  hedged  round  about  on  all 
sides  by  Thee.3  Of  Thy  eternal  life  I  was  now  cer- 
tain, though  I  saw  it  in  a  figure  and  as  through  a 
glass.*  Yet  I  had  ceased  to  doubt  that  there  was 
an  incorruptible  substance,  whence  was  all  other  sub- 
stance ;  nor  did  I  now  desire  to  be  more  certain  of 
Thee,  but  more  steadfast  in  Thee.  As  for  my  tem- 

1  Ts.  xxxv.  10.  3  Job.  i.  10. 

2  Ps.  cxvi.  16, 17.  4  1  Cor.  xiii.  12. 


Visits  SimpUcianus.  177 

poral  life,  all  was  wavering,  and  my  heart  had  to  be 
purged  from  the  old  leaven.1  The  Way?  the  Saviour 
Himself,  well  pleased  me,  but  as  yet  I  shrunk  from 
going  through  its  straitness.  And  Thou  didst  put 
into  my  mind,  and  it  seemed  good  in  my  eyes,  to  go 
to  Simplicianus,  who  seemed  to  me  a  good  servant 
of  Thine;  and  Thy  grace  shone  in  Him.  I  had 
heard  also,  that  from  his  very  youth  he  had  lived 
most  devoted  unto  Thee.  Now  he  was  grown  into 
years ;  and  by  reason  of  so  great  age  spent  in  such 
zealous  following  of  Thy  ways,  he  seemed  to  me 
likely  to  have  learned  much  experience ;  and  so  he 
had.  Out  of  which  store,  I  wished  that  he  would 
tell  me  (setting  before  him  my  anxieties)  which 
were  the  fittest  way  for  one  in  my  case  to  walk  in 
Thy  paths. 

2.  For  I  saw  the  church  full ;  and  one  went  this 
way,  and  another  that  way.  But  I  was  displeased, 
that  I  led  a  secular  life ;  yea,  now  that  my  desires  no 
longer  inflamed  me,  as  of  old,  with  hopes  of  honor 
and  profit,  a  very  grievous  burden  it  was  to  undergo 
so  heavy  a  bondage.  For,  in  comparison  of  Thy 
sweetness,  and  the  beauty  of  Tfiy  house  which  I 
loved?  those  things  delighted  me  no  longer.  But 
still  I  was  enthralled  with  the  love  of  woman ;  nor 
did  the  Apostle  forbid  me  to  marry,  although  he 
advised  me  to  something  better,  chiefly  wishing  that 
all  men  were  as  himself  icas*  But  I,  being  weak, 
chose  the  more  indulgent  place ;  and  because  of  this 

1 1  Cor.  v.  7.  3  Ts.  xxvi.  8. 

2  John  xiv.  6.  41  Cor.  Mi.  8. 


178  Augustine's  distractions. 

alone,  was  tossed  up  and  down  in  all  beside,  faint 
and  wasted  with  withering  cares,  because  in  other 
matters  I  was  constrained  against  ray  will  to  con- 
form myseff  to  a  married  life,  to  which  I  was  given 
up  and  enthralled.  I  had  heard  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Truth,  that  there  were  some  eunuchs,  ichich  had 
made  themselves  eunuchs  for  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven's sake:  but,  saith  He,  let-  him  who  can  receive 
it  receive  it.1  Surely  vain  are  all  men  who  are  ig- 
norant of  God,  and  could  not  out  of  the  good  things 
which  are  seen,  find  out  Him  who  is  good?  But  I 
was  no  longer  in  that  vanity ;  I  had  surmounted  it ; 
and  by  the  common  witness  of  all  Thy  creatures 
had  found  Thee  our  Creator,  and  Thy  Word,  God 
with  Thee,  and  together  with  Thee  one  God,  by 
whom  Thou  createdst  all  things.  There  is  yet 
another  kind  of  ungodly,  who  knowing  God  glori- 
fied Him  not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful?  Into 
this  also  had  I  fallen,  but  Thy  right  hand  upheld 
me,*  and  took  me  thence,  and  Thou  placedst  me 
where  I  might  recover.  For  Thou  hast  said  unto 
man,  Behold,  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  wisdom,*  and 
Desire  not  to  seem  wise  /6  because  they  who  affirmed 
themselves  to  be  wise,  became  fools.7  But  I  had  now 
found  the  goodly  pearl,  which,  selling  all  that  I  had? 
I  ought  to  have  bought,  and  I  hesitated. 

II.  3.  To  Simplicianus  then  I  went,  the  spiritual 
father  of  Ambrose  (a  Bishop  now),  and  whom  Am- 
brose truly  loved  as  a  father.  To  him  I  related  the 

1  Matt.  xlx.  12.  4  Ps.  xviii.  85.  7  Rom.  i.  22. 

2  Wisd.  xlU.  1.  «  Job  xxviii.  28.  8  Matt.  xiii.  46. 
8  Rom.  i.  21.                    6  Prov.  iii.  7. 


TJie  conversion  of  Victorinus.  179 

mazes  of  my  wanderings.  But  when  I  mentioned 
that  I  had  read  certain  books  of  the  Platonists, 
which  Victorinus,  sometime  Rhetoric  Professor  of 
Rome  (who  had  died  a  Christian,  as  I  had  heard), 
had  translated  into  Latin,  he  testified  his  joy  that 
I  had  not  fallen  upon  the  writings  of  other  philoso- 
phers, full  of  fallacies  and  deceits,  after  the  rudi- 
ments of  this  world,1  whereas  the  Platonists  many 
ways  led  to  the  belief  in  God  and  Plis  Word.  Then 
to  exhort  me  to  the  humility  of  Christ,  hidden  from 
the  wise,  and  revealed  to  little  ones,2  he  spoke  of  Vic- 
torinus himself,  whom,  while  at  Rome,  he  had  most 
intimately  known :  and  of  him  he  related  what  I 
will  not  conceal.  For  it  contains  great  praise  of 
Thy  grace,  to  be  confessed  unto  Thee,  how  that 
aged  man,  most  learned  and  skilled  in  the  liberal 
sciences,  and  who  had  read  and  weighed  so  many 
works  of  the  philosophers;  the  instructor  of  so 
many  noble  Senators ;  who  also,  as  a  monument  of 
his  excellent  discharge  of  his  office,  had  (which  men 
of  this  world  esteem  a  high  honor)  both  deserved 
and  obtained  a  statue  in  the  Roman  Forum ;  he,  to 
that  time  of  life  a  worshipper  of  idols,  and  a  par- 
taker of  the  sacrilegious  rites,  to  which  almost  all 
the  nobility  of  Rome  were  given  up,  and  which  had 
inspired  the  people  with  the  love  of 

Anubis,  barking  deity,  and  all 

The  monster  gods  of  every  kind,  who  fought 

'Gainst  Neptune,  Venus,  and  Minerva : 

whom  Rome  had  once  conquered,  and  now  adored, 
l  Col.  ii.  8.  2  Matt  xi.  25. 


180  The  conversion 


all  which  the  aged  Victorinus  had  with  thunder- 
ing eloquence  so  many  years  defended ;  —  he  now 
blushed  not  to  be  the  child  of  Thy  Christ,  and  the 
new-born  babe  of  Thy  fountain ;  submitting  his  neck 
to  the  yoke  of  humility,  and  subduing  his  forehead 
to  the  reproach  of  the  Cross. 

4.  O  Lord,  Lord,  Which  hast  bmced  the  heavens 
and  come  doicn,  touched  the  mountains  and  they  did 
smoke,1  by  what  means  didst  Thou  convey  Thyself 
into  that  breast  ?  He  used  to  read  (as  Simplicianus 
said)  the  holy  Scripture,  most  studiously  sought  and 
searched  into  all  the  Christian  writings,  and  said  to 
Simplicianus  (not  openly,  but  privately,  and  as  a 
friend),  "Understand  that  I  am  already  a  Chris- 
tian." Whereto  Simplicianus  answered,  "I  will  not 
believe  it,  nor  will  I  rank  you  among  Christians,  un- 
less I  see  you  in  the  Church  of  Christ."  The  other, 
in  banter,  replied,  "Do  walls  then  make  Christians?" 
And  this  he  often  said,  that  he  was  already  a  Chris- 
tian; and  Simplicianus  as  often  made  the  same  an- 
swer, and  the  conceit  of  the  "walls"  was  by  the 
other  as  often  renewed.  For  he  feared  to  offend  his 
friends,  proud  daemon-worshippers ;  from  the  height 
of  whose  Babylonian  dignity,  as  from  cedars  of  Liba- 
nus?  which  the  Lord  had  not  yet  broken  down,  he 
supposed  the  weight  of  enmity  would  fall  upon  him. 
But  after  that  by  reading  and  earnest  thought  he 
had  gathered  firmness,  and  feared  to  be  denied  by 
Christ  before  the  holy  angels,  should  he  now  be  afraid 
to  confess  Him  before  men?  and  appeared  to  him- 

1  Fs.  cxlir.  6.  »  Ps.  xxix.  8.  s  Luke  ix.  26. 


of  Victorinus.  181 


self  guilty  of  a  heavy  offence,  in  being  ashamed 
of  the  Sacraments  of  Thy  lowly  Word  and  not 
ashamed  of  the  sacrilegious  rites  of  those  proud  dae- 
mons, whose  pride  he  had  imitated  and  their  rites 
adopted,  he  became  bold-faced  against  vanity,  and 
shame-faced  towards  the  truth,  and  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  said  to  Simplicianus  (as  himself  told 
me),  "  Go  we  to  the  church ;  I  wish  to  be  made  a 
Christian."  But  he,  not  containing  himself  for  joy, 
went  with  him.  And  having  been  admitted  to  the 
first  sacrament  and  become  a  Catechumen,  not  long 
after  he  further  gave  in  his  name,  that  he  might 
be  regenerated  by  baptism,  —  Rome  wondering,  the 
church  rejoicing.  The  proud  saw,  and  were  wroth; 
they  gnashed  with  their  teeth,  and  melted  away.1 
But  the  Lord  God  was  the  hope  of  Thy  servant, 
and  he  regarded  not  vanities  and  lying  madness.2 

5.  To  conclude :  when  the  hour  was  come  for  mak- 
ing profession  of  his  faith  (which  profession  at  Rome 
they  who  are  about  to  approach  to  Thy  grace  de- 
liver, from  an  elevated  place,  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
faithful,  in  a  set  form  of  words  committed  to  mem- 
ory), the  presbyters,  he  said,  offered  Victorinus  (as 
was  done  to  such  as  seemed  likely  through  bashful- 
ness  to  be  alarmed)  to  make  his  profession  more 
privately;  but  he  chose  rather  to  profess  his  salva- 
tion in  the  presence  of  the  holy  multitude.  "  For  it 
was  not  salvation  that  he  taught  in  rhetoric,  and 
yet  that  he  had  publicly  professed :  how  much  less 
then  ought  he,  when  pronouncing  Thy  word,  to 

l  Ps.  cxii  10.  2  Ps.  xxxi.  6,  40,  etc 


182  God's  goodness 


fear  Thy  meek  flock,  who,  when  delivering  his  own 
words,  had  not  feared  a  mad  multitude!"  "When, 
then,  he  went  up  to  make  his  profession,  all,  as  they 
knew  him,  whispered  his  name  one  to  another  with 
the  voice  of  congratulation.  And  who  there  knew 
him  not?  And  there  ran  a  low  murmur  through  all 
the  mouths  of  the  rejoicing  multitude,  Victorinus ! 
Yictorinus !  Sudden  was  the  burst  of  rapture,  that 
they  saw  him ;  suddenly  were  they  hushed  that  they 
might  hear  him.  He  pronounced  the  true  faith  with 
an  excellent  boldness,  and  all  wished  to  draw  him 
into  their  very  heart :  yea,  by  their  love  and  joy 
they  drew  him  thither;  such  were  the  hands  where- 
with they  drew  him. 

III.  6.  Good  God !  what  takes  place  in  man,  that 
he  should  more  rejoice  at  the  salvation  of  a  soul 
despaired  of,  and  freed  from  greater  peril,  than  if 
there  had  always  been  hope  of  him,  or  the  danger 
had  been  less  ?  For  so  Thou  also,  merciful  Father, 
dost  more  rejoice  over  one  penitent,  than  over  ninety- 
nine  just  persons,  that  need  no  repentance.1  And 
with  much  joyfulness  do  we  hear,  so  often  as  we 
hear  with  what  joy  the  sheep  which  has  strayed  is 
brought  back  upon  the  shepherd 's  shoulder,  and.  the 
groat  is  restored  to  Thy  treasury,  the  neighbors  re- 
joicing with  the  woman  icho  found  it ;*  and  the  joy 
of  the  solemn  service  of  Thy  house  forceth  to  tears, 
when  in  Thy  house  it  is  read  of  Thy  younger  son, 
that  he  was  dead  and  liveth  again;  had  been  lost, 
and  is  found.  For  Thou  rejoicest  in  us,  and  in  Thy 
holy  angels,  holy  through  holy  charity.  For  Thou 

1  Luke  xv.  7  2  Luke  xv.  5 — 9 


towards  penitents.  183 

art  ever  the  same ;  for  all  things  which  abide  not 
the  same  nor  for  ever,  Thou  for  ever  knowest  in 
the  same  way. 

7.  "What  then  takes  place  in  the  soul,  when  it  is 
more  delighted  at  finding  or  recovering  the  things 
it  loves,  than  if  it  had  ever  had  them?  yea,  and 
other  things  witness  hereunto;  and  all  things  are 
full  of  witnesses,  crying  out,  "  So  is  it."  The  con- 
quering commander  triumpheth ;  yet  had  he  not 
conquered  unless  he  had  fought;  and  the  more 
peril  there  was  in  the  battle,  so  much  the  more  joy 
is  there  in  the  triumph.  The  storm  tosses  the  sail- 
ors, threatens  shipwreck ;  all  wax  pale  at  approach- 
ing death  ;  sky  and  sea  are  calmed,  and  they  are 
exceeding  joyed,  as  having  been  exceeding  afraid. 
A  friend  is  sick,  and  his  pulse  threatens  danger ;  all 
who  long  for  his  recovery  are  sick  in  mind  with  him. 
He  is  restored,  though  as  yet  he  walks  not  with  his 
former  strength ;  yet  there  is  such  joy  as  was  not 
when  before  he  walked  sound  and  strong.  Yea,  the 
very  pleasures  of  human  life  men  acquire  by  difficul- 
ties, not  those  only  which  fall  upon  us  unlocked  for, 
and  against  our  wills,  but  even  by  self-chosen,  and 
pleasure-seeking  trouble.  Eating  and  drinking  have 
no  pleasure,  unless  there  precede  the  pinching  of 
hunger  and  thirst.  Men,  given  to  drink,  eat  certain 
salt  meats  to  procure  a  troublesome  heat,  which,  the 
drink  allaying,  causes  pleasure.  It  is  also  ordered 
that  the  affianced  bride  should  not  at  once  be  given, 
lest  as  a  husband  he  should  hold  cheap  her  whom,  as 
betrothed,  he  sighed  not  after. 


184  God's  goodness  towards  penitents. 

8.  This  law  holds  in  foul  and  accursed  joy ;  in  per- 
mitted and  lawful  joy ;  in  the  very  purest  perfection 
of  friendship ;  in  him  who  was  dead,  and  lived  again*, 
had  been  lost  and  was  found.  Everywhere  the 
greater  joy  is  ushered  in  by  the  greater  pain.  What 
means  this,  O  Lord  my  God,,  whereas  Thou  art  ever- 
lastingly joy  to  Thyself,  and  some  things  around  Thee 
evermore  rejoice  in  Thee?  What  means  this,  that 
this  portion  of  things  thus  ebbs  and  flows  alternately 
displeased  and  reconciled  ?  Is  this  their  allotted 
measure  ?  Is  this  all  Thou  hast  assigned  to  them, 
whereas  from  the  highest  heavens  to  the  lowest  earth, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  end  of  ages, 
from  the  angel  to  the  worm,  from  the  first  motion  to 
the  last,  Thou  settest  each  in  its  place,  and  realizest 
each  in  their  season,  every  thing  good  after  its  kind  ? 
Woe  is  me  !  how  high  art  Thou  in  the  highest,  and 

O  O  " 

how  deep  in  the  deepest !  and  Thou  never  departcst 
from  us,  and  we  scarcely  return  to  Thee. 

IV.  9.  Up,  Lord,  and  do;  stir  us  up,  and  recall 
us ;  kindle  and  draw  us ;  inflame,  grow  sweet  unto 
us ;  let  us  now  love,  let  us  run.1  Do  not  many,  out 
of  a  deeper  hell  of  blindness  than  Victorinus,  return 
to  Thee,  approach,  and  are  enlightened,  receiving 
that  Light,  which  they  who  receive,  receive  power 
from  Thee  to  become  Thy  sons  f 3  But  if  they  hap- 
pen to  be  less  known  to  the  people,  even  those  that 
do  know  them  rejoice  less  for  them  in  conversion. 
For  when  many  rejoice  together,  each  also  has 
more  exuberant  joy ;  for  that  they  are  kindled  and 

1  Cant  i.  4.  2  John  i.  12. 


God^s  goodness  towards  penitents.  185 

inflamed  one  by  the  other.  Again,  because  those 
that  are  widely  known  influence  many  more  towards 
salvation,  and  lead  the  way  with  many  to  follow ; 
therefore  do  they  also  who  preceded  these  widely 
known  persons  much  rejoice  in  them,  because  they 
rejoice  not  in  them  alone.  For  far  be  it,  that  in  Thy 
tabernacle  the  persons  of  the  rich  should  be  accepted 
before  the  poor,  or  the  noble  before  the  ignoble  ;  see- 
ing rather  that  Thou  hast  chosen  the  weak  things 
of  the  world,  to  confound  the  strong ;  and  the  base 
things  of  this  world,  and  the  things  despised  hast 
Thou  chosen,  and  those  things  which  are  not,  that 
Thou  mightest  bring  to  nought  things  that  are.1 
And  yet  even  that  least  of  Thy  apostles?  by 
whose  tongue  Thou  soundest  forth  these  words, 
when,  through  his  warfare,  Paulus  the  Proconsul,  his 
pride  conquered,  was  made  to  pass  under  the  easy 
yoke  of  Thy  Christ,  and  became  a  provincial  of  the 
great  King,  he  also  for  his  former  name  Saul,  was 
pleased  to  be  called  Paul,  in  testimony  of  so  great  a 
victory.  For  the  enemy  is  more  overcome  in  one, 
of  whom  he  hath  more  hold,  and  by  whom  he  hath 
hold  of  more.  But  the  proud  he  hath  more  hold  of, 
through  their  nobility;  and  by  them,  of  more  through 
their  authority.  By  how  much  the  more  welcome 
then  the  heart  of  Yictorinus  was  esteemed,  which 
the  devil  had  held  as  an  impregnable  possession ;  and 
the  tongue  oT  Victorinus,  with  which  mighty  and 
keen  weapon  he  had  slain  many ;  by  so  much  the 
more  abundantly  ought  Thy  sons  to  rejoice,  for  that 

l  1  Cor.  i.  27,  28.  21  Cor.  xv.  9. 


18G  Encouraged  by  the  example 

our  King  hath  bound  the  strong  man?  and  they  saw 
his  vessels  taken  from  him  and  cleansed,  and  made 
meet  for  Thy  honor*  and  become  serviceable  for  the 
Lord,  unto  every  good  work? 

V.  10.  Now  when  that  man  of  Thine,  Simplicia- 
nus,  related  to  me  this  of  Yictorinus,  I  was  on  fire 
to  imitate  him;  and  for  this  very  end  had  he  related 
it.  But  when  he  had  subjoined,  also,  how  in  the 
days  of  the  Emperor  Julian,  a  law  was  made,  where- 
by Christians  were  forbidden  to  teach  the  liberal 
sciences  or  oratory;  and  how  he,  obeying  this  law, 
chose  rather  to  give  over  the  wordy  school  than  Thy 
'Word,  by  which  Thou  makest  eloquent  the  tongues 
of  the  dumb  / 4  he  seemed  to  me  not  more  resolute 
than  blessed,  in  having  thus  found  opportunity  to 
wait  on  Thee  only.  Which  thing  I  was  sighing  for, 
bound  as  I  was,  not  with  another's  irons,  but  by  my 
own  iron  will.  My  will  the  enemy  held,  and  thence 
had  made  a  chain  for  me,  and  bound  me.  For  of  a 
perverse  will  comes  lust ;  and  a  lust  served  becomes 
custom ;  and  custom  not  resisted  becomes  necessity. 
By  which  links,  as  it  were,  joined  together  (whence 
I  called  it  a  chain)  a  hard  bondage  held  me  en- 
thralled. But  that  new  will  which  had  begun  to  be 
in  me,  freely  to  serve  Thee,  and  to  wish  to  enjoy 
Thee,  O  God,  the  only  assured  pleasantness,  was  not 
yet  able  to  overcome  my  former  wilfulness  strength- 
ened by  age.  Thus  did  my  two  wills,  one  new,  and 
the  other  old,  one  carnal,  the  other  spiritual,  struggle 
within  me ;  and  by  their  discord,  undid  my  soul. 

1  Matt.  xii.  29.        2  Luke  xi.  22,  25.      32  Tim.  ii.  21.        4  Wisd.  x.  2L 


of  Victor inns  /  but  still  weal:  187 

11.  Thus  I  understood,  by  my  own  experience, 
what  I  had  read,  how  the  flesh  lusteth  against  the 
spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the  flesh.1  It  was  my- 
self verily  either  way ;  yet  more  myself,  in  that 
which  I  approved  in  myself,  than  in  that  which  in 
myself  I  disapproved.2  For  in  this  last,  it  was  now 
for  the  more  part  not  myself,  because  in  much  I 
rather  endured  against  my  will,  than  acted  willingly. 
And  yet  it  was  through  me  that  custom  had  obtained 
this  power  of  warring  against  me,  because  I  had  come 
willingly  whither  I  willed  now  not  to  be.  And  who 
has  any  right  to  speak  against  it,  if  just  punishment 
follow  the  sinner  ?  Nor  had  I  now  any  longer  my 
former  plea,  that  I  therefore  as  yet  hesitated  to  be 
above  the  world  and  serve  Thee,  for  that  the  truth 
was  not  altogether  ascertained  to  me ;  for  now  it 
was.  But  I,  still  under  service  to  the  earth,  refused 
to  fight  under  Thy  banner,  and  feared  as  much  to  be 
freed  of  all  incumbrances,  as  I  ought  to  have  feared 
to  be  encumbered  therewith!  Thus  with  the  baggage 
of  this  present  world  was  I  held  down  pleasantly,  as 
in  sleep :  and  the  thoughts  wherein  I  meditated  on 
Thee,  were  like  the  efforts  of  such  as  would  awake, 
who  yet  overcome  with  a  heavy  drowsiness,  are  again 
drenched  therein.  And  as  no  one  would  sleep  for 
ever,  and  in  all  men's  sober  judgment,  waking  is 
better,  yet  a  man  very  often  feeling  a  heavy  lethargy 
in  all  his  limbs  defers  to  shake  off  sleep,  and,  though 
half  displeased,  yet,  even  after  it  is  time  to  rise,  with 
pleasure  yields  to  it,  so  was  I  assured,  that  much 

i  Gal.  v.  '7.  2  Rom  vii.  17. 


188  Some  mention  of  his  friends. 

better  were  it  for  me  to  give  myself  up  to  Thy 
charity,  than  to  give  myself  over  to  mine  own 
cupidity  ;  but  though  the  former  course  satisfied  me 
and  gained  the  mastery,  the  latter  pleased  me  and 
held  me  mastered.  Nor  had  I  anything  to  answer 
Thee  calling  to  me,  Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and 
arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light,1 
And  when  Thou  didst  on  all  sides  show  me  that 
what  Thou  saidst  was  true,  I,  convicted  by  the  truth, 
had  nothing  at  all  to  answer,  but  only  those  dull  and 
drowsy  words,  "  Anon,  anon,"  "  presently ; "  "  leave 
me  but  a  little."  But  "presently,  presently,"  had 
no  present,  and  my  "  little  while  "  went  on  for  a  long 
while ;  in  vain  I  delighted  in  TJiy  law  according  to 
the  inner  man,  when  another  law  in  my  members 
rebelled  against  the  law  of  my  mind,  and  led  me  cap- 
tive under  the  law  of  sin  which  was  in  my  members? 
For  the  law  of  sin  is  the  violence  of  custom,  whereby 
the  mind  is  drawn  and  holden,  even  against  its  will ; 
but  deservedly,  for  that  il  willingly  fell  into  it.  Who 
then  should  deliver  me  thus  wretched  from  the  body 
of  this  death,  but  Thy  grace  only,  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord?3 

VI.  13.  And  how  Thou  didst  deliver  me  out 
of  the  bonds  of  desire,  wherewith  I  was  bound 
most  straitly  to  carnal  concupiscence,  and  out  of  the 
drudgery  of  worldly  things,  I  will  now  declare,  and 
confess  unto  Thy  name,  O  Lord,  my  helper  and  my 
redeemer*  Amid  increasing  anxiety,  I  was  doing  my 
wonted  business,  and  daily  sighing  unto  Thee.  I  at- 

1  Eph.  v.  14.         2  Rom.  vii.  22.        3  Ver.  24,  25.         <  Ps.  xix.  14. 


The  story  of  Pontitianus.  189 

tended  Thy  Church,  whenever  free  from  the  business 
under  the  burden  of  which  I  groaned.  Alypius  was 
with  me,  now  after  the  third  sitting  released  from 
his  law  business,  and  awaiting  to  whom  to  sell  his 
counsel,  as  I  sold  the  skill  of  speaking,  if  indeed 
teaching  can  impart  it.  To  please  us,  Nebridius  had 
now  consented  to  teach  under  Verecundus,  a  citizen 
and  a  grammarian  of  Milan,  and  a  very  intimate 
friend  of  us  all ;  who  urgently  desired,  and  by  the 
right  of  friendship  challenged  from  our  company, 
such  faithful  aid  as  he  greatly  needed.  Nebridius 
then  was  not  drawn  to  this  by  any  desire  of  ad- 
vantage (for  he  might  have  made  much  more  of  his 
learning  had  he  so  willed),  but  as  a  most  kind  and 
gentle  friend,  he  would  not  be  wanting  to  a  good 
office,  and  slight  our  request.  But  he  acted  herein 
very  discreetly,  shunning  to  become  known  to  person- 
ages great  according  to  this  world,  avoiding  the  dis- 
traction of  mind  thence  ensuing,  and  desiring  to 
have  it  free  and  at  leisure,  as  many  hours  as  might 
be,  to  seek,  or  read,  or  hear  something  concerning 
wisdom. 

14.  One  day  then,  Nebridius  being  absent  (I  recol- 
lect not  why),  there  came  to  see  me  and  Alypius,  one 
Pontitianus,  our  countryman  so  far  as  being  an  Af- 
rican, in  high  office  in  the  Emperor's  court.  What 
he  would  with  us,  I  know  not,  but  we  sat  down  to 
converse,  and  it  happened  that  upon  a  gaming-table, 
before  us,  he  observed  a  book,  took,  opened  it,  and, 
contrary  to  his  expectation,  found  it  the  Apostle 
Paul ;  for  he  had  thought  it  some  of  those  books 

15 


100  The  story  of  Pontitlanus. 

which  I  was  wearing  myself  in  teaching.  Whereat 
smiling,  and  looking  at  me,  he  expressed  his  joy  and 
wonder,  that  he  had  on  a  sudden  found  this  book, 
and  this  only  before  my  eyes.  For  lie  was  a  Chris- 
tian, and  baptized,  and  often  bowed  himself  before 
Thee  our  God  in  the  Church,  in  frequent  and  con- 
tinued prayers.  When  then  I  had  told  him  that  I 
bestowed  very  great  pains  upon  those  Scriptures,  a 
conversation  arose  (suggested  by  his  account)  on  An- 
tony the  Egyptian  Monk :  whose  name  was  in  high 
reputation  among  Thy  servants,  though  to  that  hour 
unknown  to  us.  Which  when  he  discovered,  he 
dwelt  more  upon  that  subject,  informing,  and  Avonder- 
ing  at  our  ignorance  of  one  so  eminent.  But  we 

o  o 

stood  amazed,  hearing  of  Thy  wonderful  woi'ks  (most 
fully  attested,  in  times  so  recent,  and  almost  in  our 
own  time)  wrought  in  the  true  Faith  and  Church 
Catholic.  We  all  wondered  ;  we,  that  they  were  so 
great,  and  he,  that  they  had  not  reached  us. 

15.  Thence  his  discourse  turned  to  the  flocks  in 
the  Monasteries,  and  their  holy  ways,  a  sweet-smell- 
ing savor  unto  Thee,  and  the  fruitful  deserts  of  the 
wilderness,  whereof  we  knew  nothing.  And  there 
was  a  Monastery  at  Milan,  full  of  good  brethren, 
without  the  city  walls,  under  the  fostering  care  of 
Ambrose,  and  we  knew  it  not.  He  went  on  with  his 
discourse,  and  we  listened  in  intent  silence.  He  told 
us  then  how  one  afternoon  at  Triers,  when  the 
Emperor  was  taken  up  with  the  Cireensian  games,  he 
and  three  others,  his  companions,  went  out  to 'walk  in 
gardens  near  the  city  walls,  and  there  as  they  hap- 


TJie  story  of  Pontitianus.  191 

pened  to  walk  in  pairs,  one  went  apart  with  him,  and 
the  other  two  wandered  by  themselves ;  and  these 
latter,  in  their  wanderings,  lighted  upon  a  certain  cot- 
tage, inhabited  by  certain  of  Thy  servants,  poor  in 
spirit,  of  whom  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven,1  and  there 
they  found  a  little  book,  containing  the  life  of  An- 
tony. This,  one  of  them  began  to  read,  admire,  and 
kindle  at  it ;  and  as  he  read,  to  meditate  on  taking 
up  such  a  life,  and  giving  over  his  secular  service  to 
serve  Thee.  And  these  two  were  of  those  whom 
they  style  agents  for  the  public  affairs.  Then  sud- 
denly, filled  with  an  holy  love,  and  a  sober  shame,  in 
anger  with  himself  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  his  friend, 
saying,  "  Tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  what  would  we  attain 
by  all  these  labors  of  ours  ?  what  aim  we  at  ?  what 
serve  we  for  ?  Can  our  hopes  in  court  rise  higher 
than  to  be  the  Emperor's  favorites?  and  in  this, 
what  is  there  not  brittle,  and  full  of  perils  ?  and  by 
how  many  perils  arrive  we  at  a  greater  peril  ?  and 
when  arrive  we  thither  ?  But,  if  I  desire  it,  I  can 
become  now  at  once  a  friend  of  God."  So  spake  he. 
And  in  pain  with  the  travail  of  a  new  life,  he  turned 
his  eyes  again  upon  the  book,  and  read  on,  and  was 
changed  inwardly,  where  Thou  lookest,  and  his  mind 
was  stripped  of  the  world,  as  soon  appeared.  For  as 
he  read,  and  rolled  up  and  down  the  waves  of  his 
heart,  he  stormed  at  himself  a  while,  then  discerned, 
and  determined  on  a  better  course  ;  and  now  being 
Thine,  said  to  his  friend,  "  Now  have  I  broken  loose 
from  those  our  hopes,  and  am  resolved  to  serve  God  5 

i  Matt.  v.  3. 


102  Augustine's  irresolution. 

and  from  this  hour,  in  this  place,  I  begin  upon  this. 
If  thou  likest  not  to  imitate  me,  do  not  oppose  me." 
The  other  answered,  that  he  would  cleave  to  him,  to 
partake  so  glorious  a  reward,  so  glorious  a  service. 
Thus  both  being  now  Thine,  were  building  the  tower 
at  the  necessary  cost,  the  forsaking  all  tJiat  they  had 
and  following  Thee}  Then  Pontitianus  and  the 
other  with  him,  that  had  walked  in  other  parts  of  the 
garden,  came  in  search  of  them  to  the  same  place ; 
and  finding  them,  reminded  them  to  return,  for  the 
day  was  now  far  spent.  But  they  relating  their  reso- 
lution and  purpose,  and  how  that  determination  was 
begun,  and  settled  in  them,  begged  them,  if  they 
would  not  join,  not  to  molest  them.  Their  friends, 
though  nothing  altered  from  their  former  selves,  did 
yet  bewail  themselves  (as  he  affirmed),  and  piously 
congratulated  them,  recommending  themselves  to 
their  prayers  ;  and  so,  with  hearts  lingering  on  the 
earth,  went  away  to  the  palace.  But  the  other  two, 
fixing  their  hearts  on  heaven,  remained  in  the  cot- 
tage. And  both  had  affianced  brides,  who,  when 
they  heard  hereof,  also  dedicated  their  virginity  unto 
God. 

VII.  16.  Such  was  the  story  of  Pontitianus; 
but  Thou,  O  Lord,  while  he  was  speaking,  didst  turn 
me  round  towards  myself,  taking  me  from  behind  my 
back  where  I  had  placed  me,  unwilling  to  observe 
myself;  and  setting  me  before  my  face,  that  I  might 
see  how  foul  I  was,  how  crooked  and  defiled,  bespot- 
ted  and  ulcerous.  And  I  beheld,  and  stood  aghast ; 

l  Luke  xiv.  26-35. 


His  will  still  divided.  193 

and  whither  to  flee  from  myself  I  found  not.  And  if 
I  sought  to  turn  mine  eye  from  off  myself,  he  went 
on  with  his  relation,  and  Thou  again  didst  set  me 
over  against  myself,  and  thrustedst  me  before  iny 
eyes,  that  I  might  find  out,  mine  iniquity,  and  hate 
it.1  I  had  known  it,  but  made  as  though  I  saw  it  not, 
winked  at  it,  and  forgot  it. 

17.  But  now,  the  more  ardently  I  loved  those 
whose  healthful  affections  I  heard  of,  that  they  had 
resigned  themselves  wholly  to  Thee  to  be  cured,  the 
more  did  I  abhor  myself,  when  compared  with  them. 
For  many  of  my  years  (some  twelve)  had  now  run 
out  with  me  since  my  nineteenth,  when,  upon  the 
reading  of  Cicero's  Hortensius,  I  was  stirred  to  an 
earnest  love  of  wisdom  ;  and  still  I  was  deferring  to 
reject  mere  earthly  felicity,  and  give  myself  to  search 
out  that,  whereof  not  the  finding  only  but  the  very 
search,  was  to  be  preferred  to  the  treasures  and  king- 
doms of  the  world,  though  already  found,  and  to  the 
pleasures  of  the  body,  though  spread  around  me  at 
my  will.  But,  I  wretched,  most  wretched,  in  the 
very  commencement  of  my  early  youth,  had  begged 
chastity  of  Thee,  and  said,  "Give  me  chastity  and 
continency,  only  not  yet."  For  I  feared  lest  Thou 
shouldest  hear  me  soon,  and  soon  cure  me  of  the  dis- 
ease of  concupiscence,  which  I  wished  to  have  satis- 
fied rather  than  extinguished.  And  I  had  wandered 
through  crooked  ways  in  a  sacrilegious  superstition, 
not  indeed  assured  thereof,  but  as  preferring  it  to 
/ 

l  Fs.  xxxvi.  2. 


194  His  will  still  divided. 

the  truth  which  I  did  not  seek  religiously,  but  op- 
posed maliciously. 

18.  And  I  had  heretofore  thought,  that  I  therefore 
deferred  from  day  to  day  to  reject  the  hopes  of  this 
world,  and  follow  Thee  only,  because  there  did  not 
appear  aught  certain,  whither  to  direct  my  course. 
And  now  was  the  day  come  wherein  I  was  to  be 
laid  bare  to  myself,  and  my  conscience  was  to  up- 
braid me.  "  Where  art  thou  now,  my  tongue  ?  Thou 
saidst,  that  for  an  uncertain  truth  thou  likedst  not 
to  cast  off  the  baggage  of  vanity  ;  now  truth  is 
certain,  and  yet  that  burden  still  oppresseth  thee ; 
while  they  who  neither  have  so  worn  themselves 
out  with  seeking  it,  nor  for  ten  years  and  more  have 
been  thinking  thereon,  have  had  their  shoulders 
lightened,  and  received  wings  to  fly  away."  Thus 
was  I  gnawed  within,  and  exceedingly  confounded 
with  an  horrible  shame,  while  Pontitianus  was 
speaking.  And  he  having  brought  to  a  close  his 
tale  and  the  business  he  came  for,  went  his  way; 
and  I  into  myself.  What  said  I  not  against  myself? 
with  what  scourges  of  condemnation  lashed  I  not 
my  soul,  that  it  might  follow  me,  striving  to  go  after 
Thee  !  Yet  it  drew  back ;  refused,  but  excused  .not 
itself.  All  arguments  were  spent  and  confuted ; 
there  remained  a  mute  shrinking;  and  she  feared  as 
she  would  death,  to  be  restrained  from  the  flux  of 
that  custom,  whereby  she  was  wasting  to  death. 

VIII.  19.  Then  in  this  great  contention  of  my 
inward  dwelling,  which  I  had  strongly  raised  against 


His  icill  still  divided.  195 

myself  in  the  chamber1  of  my  heart,  troubled  in  mind 
and  countenance,  I  turned  upon  Alypius.  "What 
ails  us  ? "  I  exclaim  :  "  what  is  it  ?  what  heardest 
thou  ?  The  unlearned  start  up  and  take  heaven  by 
force 2  and  we  with  our  learning,  and  without  heart, 
wallow  in  flesh  and  blood  !  Are  we  ashamed  to  fol- 
low, because  others  are  gone  before,  and  are  not 
ashamed  not  even  to  follow  ?  "  Some  such  words  I 
uttered,  and  my  fever  of  mind  tore  me  away  from 
him,  while  he,  gazing  on  me  in  astonishment,  kept 
silence.  For  it  was  not  my  wonted  tone ;  and  my 
forehead,  cheeks,  eyes,  color,  tone  of  voice,  spake 
my  mind  more  than  the  words  I  uttered.  A  little 
garden  there  was  to  our  lodging,  which  we  had  the 
use  of,  as  of  the  whole  house ;  for  the  master  of  the 
house,  our  host,  was  not  living  there.  Thither  had  the 
tumult  of  my  breast  hurried  me,  where  no  man  might 
hinder  the  hot  contention  wherein  I  had  engaged 
with  myself,  until  it  should  end  as  Thou  knewest, 
but  I  knew  not.  Only  I  was  healthfully  distracted 
and  dying,  to  live;  knowing  what  evil  thing  I  was, 
and  not  knowing  what  good  thing  I  was  shortly  to 
become.  I  retired  then  into  the  garden,  and  Alyp- 
ius  on  my  steps.  For  his  presence  did  not  lessen 
my  privacy;  and  how  could  he  forsake  me  so  dis- 
turbed ?  "We  sate  down  as  far  removed  as  might  be 
from  the  house.  I  was  troubled  in  spirit,  most  vehe- 
mently indignant  that  I  entered  not  into  Thy  will 
and  covenant,  O  my  God,  which  all.  my  bones  cried 
out  unto  me  to  enter,  and  praised  it  to  the  skies. 

1  Isaiah  xxvi.  20;  Matt.  vi.  6.  2  Matt.  vi.  12. 


196  How  is  it  that  the  mind 

And  therein* we  enter  not  by  ships,  or  chariots,  or 
feet,  no,  move  not  so  far  as  I  had  come  from  the 
house  to  that  place  where  we  were  sitting.  For,  not 
only  to  go,  but  to  arrive,  was  nothing  else  but  to  will 
to  go,  —  but  to  will  resolutely  and  thoroughly;  not 
to  turn  and  toss  this  way  and  that  a  maimed  half- 
divided  will,  struggling,  with  one  part  sinking  as 
another  rose. 

20.  Lastly,  in  the  very  fever  of  my  irresoluteness, 
I  made  with  my  body  many  such  motions  as  men 
sometimes  would,  but  cannot,  because  they  have  not 
the  limbs,  or  are  bound  with  bands,  weakened  with 
infirmity,  or  in  some  way  hindered.  Thus,  if  I  tore 
my  hair,  beat  my  forehead,  if  locking  my  fingers  I 
clasped  my  knee,  it  was  done  because  I  willed  it. 
But  I  might  have  willed,  and  not  done  it,  if  the 
power  of  motion  in  my  limbs  had  not  obeyed.  Many 
things  then  I  did,  when  "to  will"  was  not  in  itself 
"  to  be  able ; "  but  I  did  not  what  both  I  longed  in- 
comparably more  to  do,  and  what  soon  after,  when  I 
should  will,  I  should  be  able  to  do;  because  soon 
after,  when  I  should  will,  I  should  will  thoroughly, 
For  in  these  spiritual  things  ability  is  one  with  will, 
and  to  will  is  to  do  ;  and  yet  at  that  time  was  it  not 
done :  and  more  easily  did  my  body  obey  the  weak- 
est willing  of  my  soul,  in  moving  its  limbs  at  its  nod, 
than  the  soul  obeyed  itself  to  accomplish  in  the  will 
alone  this  its  momentous  will. 

IX.  21.  Whence  is  this  monstrousness  ?  and  to 
what  end  ?  Let  Thy  mercy  gleam  that  I  may  ask, 
if  the  secret  penalties  of  men,  and  those  darkest 


disobeys  itself.  197 


pangs  of  the  sons  of  Adam,  may  perhaps  answer  me. 
Whence  is  this  monstrousness  ?  and  to  what  end  ? 
The  mind  commands  the  body,  and  it  obeys  in- 
stantly ;  the  mind  commands  itself,  and  is  resisted. 
The  mind  commands  the  hand  to  be  moved ;  and 
such  readiness  is  there,  that  command  is  scarce  dis- 
tinct from  obedience.  Yet  the  mind  is  mind,  the 
hand  is  body.  The  mind  commands  the  mind,  its 
own  self,  to  will,  and  yet  it  doth  not.  Whence  this 
monstrousness  ?  and  to  what  end  ?  It  commands  it- 
self, I  say,  to  will,  and  would  not  command,  unless  it 
willed,  and  what  it  commands  is  not  done.  But  it 
willeth  not  entirely :  therefore  doth  it  not  command 
entirely.  For  so  far  forth  it  commandeth,  as  it  will- 
eth :  and,  so  far  forth  is  the  thing  commanded,  not 
done,  as  it  willeth  not.  For  the  will  commandeth 
that  there  be  a  will ;  not  another,  but  itself.  But  it 
doth  not  command  entirely,  therefore  what  it  com- 
maudeth,  is  not.  For  were  the  will  entire,  it  would 
not  even  command  it  to  be,  because  it  would  already 
be.  It  is  therefore  no  monstrousness  partly  to  will, 
partly  to  nill,  but  a  disease  of  the  mind,  that  it  doth 
not  wholly  rise,  by  truth  up-borne,  borne  down  by 
custom.  And  therefore  are  there  two  wills,  for  that 
one  of  them  is  not  entire  :  and  what  the  one  lacketh, 
the  other  hath. 

X.  22.  Let  them  perish  from,  Tliy  presence,1  O 
God,  as  vain  talkers  and  seducers*  of  the  soul,  who, 
because  they  observe  that  in  deliberating  there  are 
two  determinations,  affirm  that  there  are  two  mental 

i  Psalm  Ixviii.  2.  2  Tit-  i.  10. 


1 98  How  is  it  that  the  mind 

natures  in  us  of  two  kinds,  one  good,  the  other  evil. 
Themselves  are  truly  evil,  when  they  hold  these  evil 
things ;  and  themselves  shall  become  good  when  they 
hold  the  truth  and  assent  unto  the  t*uth,  that  Thy 
Apostle  may  say  to  them,  Ye  were  sometimes  dark- 
ness, but  now  light  in  the  Lord!  But  they,  wishing 
to  be  light,  not  in  the  Lord  but  in  themselves, 
imagining  the  nature  of  the  soul  to  be  that  which 
God  is,  are  made  more  gross  darkness  through 
a  dreadful  arrogancy ;  going  back  farther  from 
Thee,  the  true  Light  that  enlighteneth  every  man 
that  cometh  into  the  world?  Take  heed  what  you 
say,  and  blush  for  shame :  draw  near  unto  Him 
and  be  enlightened,  and  your  faces  shall  not  be 
ashamed.3  Deliberating  upon  serving  the  Lord  my 
God  now,  as  I  had  long  purposed,  it  was  I  who 
willed,  I  who  nilled,  I,  I  myself.  I  neither  willed 
entirely,  nor  nilled  entirely.  Therefore  was  I  at 
strife  with  myself,  and  rent  asunder  by  myself.  And 
this  rent  befel  me  against  my  will,  and  yet  indi- 
cated not  the  presence  of  another  mind,  but  the 
punishment  of  my  own.  Therefore  it  was  no  more  I 
that  wrought  it,  but  sin  that  dwelt  in  me  y4  the  pun- 
ishment of  a  sin  more  freely  committed,  in  that  I  was 
a  son  of  Adam. 

23.  For  if  there  be  so  many  contrary  natures  as 
there  be  "conflicting  wills,  there  shall  be  not  two 
only,  but  many.  If  a  man  deliberate  whether  he 
should  go  to  their  conventicle,  or  to  the  theatre, 
these  Manichces  cry  out,  Behold,  here  are  two  na- 

1  Eph.  v.  8.  2  John  i.  9.  3  pg  xxxiv.  5.  4  Kom.  vii.  17. 


disobeys  itself.  199 


tures  :  one  good,  draws  this  way  ;  another  bad,  draws 
back  that  way.  For  whence  else  is  this  hesitation 
between  conflicting  wills  ?  But  I  say,  that  both  be 
bad :  that  which  draws  to  them,  as  that  which  draws 
back  to  the  theatre.  But  they  believe  that  will  to  be 
good,  which  draws  to  them.  What  then  if  one  of  us 
should  deliberate,  and  amid  the  strife  of  his  two  wills 
be  in  a  strait,  whether  he  should  go  to  the  theatre,  or 
to  our  church  ?  would  not  these  Manichees  also  be  in 
a  strait  what  to  answer  ?  For  either  they  must  con- 
fess (which  they  fain  wduld  not)  that  the  will  which 
leads  to  our  church  is  good,  or  they  must  suppose  two 
evil  natures,  and  two  evil  souls  conflicting  in  one 
man,  instead  of  seeing  the  truth,  that  in  deliberation, 
one  soul  fluctuates  between  contrary  wills. 

24.  Let  them  no  more  say,  then,  when  they  per- 
ceive two  conflicting  wills  in  one  man,  that  the  con- 
flict is  between  two  contrary  souls,  of  two  contrary 
substances,  from  two  contrary  principles,  one  good, 
and  the  other  bad.  For  Thou,  O  true  God,  dost  dis- 
prove, check,  and  convict  them  by  facts ;  as  when, 
both  wills  being  bad,  one  deliberates,  whether  he 
should  kill  a  man  by  poison,  or  by  the  sword ; 
whether  he  should  seize  this  or  that  estate  of  an- 
other's, when  he  cannot  both  ;  whether  he  should 
purchase  pleasure  by  luxury,  or  keep  his  money  by 
covetousness ;  whether  h^  go  to  the  circus,  or  the 
theatre,  if  both  be  open  on  one  day ;  or,  thirdly,  to 
rob  another's  house,  if  he  have  the  opportunity ;  or, 
fourthly,  to  commit  adultery,  if  at  the  same  time  he 
have  the  means  thereof  also.  All  these,  meeting  to- 


200  Tico  opposing  wills  in  one  man 

gether  in  the  same  juncture  of  time,  and  all  being 
equally  desired,  which  cannot  at  one  time  be  acted, 
do  rend  the  mind  amid  four,  or  even  (amid  the  vast 
variety  of  things  desired)  more  conflicting  wills  ;  but 
who  will  say  that  there  are  so  many  divers  sub- 
stances ?  So  also  in  wills  which  are  good.  For  I 
ask  them,  is  it  good  to  take  pleasure  in  reading  the 
Apostle  ?  or  good  to  take  pleasure  in  a  sober  Psalm  ? 
or  good  to  discourse  on  the  Gospel  ?  They  will 
answer  to  each,  "  It  is  good."  What  then  if  all  give 
equal  pleasure,  and  all  at  once  ?  Do  not  divers  wills 
distract  the  mind,  while  he  deliberates  which  he 
should  rather  choose  ?  yet  are  they  all  good,  and  are 
at  variance  till  one  be  chosen,  whither  the  one  entire 
will  may  be  borne,  which  before  was  divided  into 
many.  Thus  also,  when  eternity  above  delights  ns, 
and  the  pleasure  of  temporal  good  holds  us  down  be- 
low, it  is  the  same  soul  which  willeth  neither  way 
with  an  entire  will ;  and  therefore  is  it  rent  asunder 
with  grievous  perplexities,  because  its  love  of  truth 
sets  this  first,  while  its  habit  sets  the  other  one  first. 

XL  25.  Thus  soul-sick  was  I,  and  tormented,  ac- 
cusing myself  much  more  severely  than  my  wont, 
rolling  and  turning  me  in  my  chain,  till  that  were 
wholly  broken,  whereby  I  now  was  but  just,  but  still 
was,  held.  And  Thou,  O  Lord,  didst  press  upon  me 
inwardly  by  a  severe  mercy,  redoubling  the  lashes  of 
fear  and  shame,  lest  I  should  again  give  way,  and,  not 
bursting  that  slight  remaintng  tie,  it  should  recover 
strength,  and  bind  me  the  /aster.  For  I  said  within 
myself,  "Be  it  done  now,  be  it  done  now;"  and 


do  not  imply  two  souls.  201 

as  I  spake,  I  all  but  performed  it ;  I  all  but  did  it, 
and  did  it  not ;  yet  sunk  not  back  to  my  former  state, 
but  kept  my  stand  hard  by,  and  took  breath.  And  I 
essayed  again,  and  wanted  somewhat  less  of  it,  and 
somewhat  less,  and  all  but  touched,  and  laid  hold  of 
it ;  and  yet  came  not  to  it,  nor  touched  nor  laid  hold 
of  it ;  hesitating  to  die  to  death  and  to  live  to  life ; 
and  the  worse,  whereto  I  was  inured,  prevailed  more 
with  me  .than  the  better  whereto  I  was  unused  ;  and 
as  the  moment  approached  wherein  I  was  to  become 
other  than  I  was,  the  greater  horror  did  it  strike  into 
me ;  yet  did  it  not  strike  me  back,  nor  turned  me 
away,  but  held  me  in  suspense. 

26.  The  very  toys  of  toys,  and  vanities  of  vanities, 
my  ancient  mistresses,  still  held  me  ;  they  plucked 
my  fleshly  garment,  and  whispered  softly,  "  Dost  thou 
cast  us  off?  and  from  that  moment  shall  we  no  more 
be  with  thee  for  ever  ?  and  from  that  moment  shall 
not  this  or  that  be  lawful  for  thee  for  ever?"  And 
what  was  it  which  they  suggested  in  that  I  said, 
"  this  or  that,"  O  my  God  ?  Let  Thy  mercy  turn  it 
away  from  the  soul  of  Thy  servant.  What  defile- 
ments did  they  suggest !  what  shame  !  But  now  I 
much  less  than  half  heard  them,  not  openly  showing 
themselves  and  contradicting  me,  but  muttering  as  it 
were  behind  my  back,  and  privily  plucking  me,  as  I 
was  departing,  but  to  look  back  on  them.  Yet  they 
did  retard  me,  so  that  I  hesitated  to  burst  and  shake 
myself  free  from  them,  and  to  spring  over  whither  I 
was  called  ;  a  violent  habit  saying  to  me,  "  Thinkest 
thou,  thou  canst  live  without  them  ?" 


202  Finds  relief  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

27.  But  now  it  spake  very  faintly.  For  on  that 
side  whither  I  had  set  my  face,  and  whither  I  trem- 
bled to  go,  there  appeared  unto  me  the  chaste 
dignity  of  Continency,  serene,  not  dissolutely  gay, 
honestly  alluring  me  to  come  and  doubt  not ;  and 
stretching  forth  to  receive  and  embrace  me,  her  holy 
hands  full  of  multitudes  of  good  examples :  there 
were  so  many  young  men  and  maidens  here,  a  multi- 
tude of  youth  and  every  age,  grave  widows  and  aged 
virgins ;  and  Continence  herself  in  all,  not  barren, 
but  a  fruitful  mother  of  children  of  joys,  by  Thee 
her  Husband,  O  Lord.  And  she  smiled  on  me  with  a 
persuasive  mockery,  as  if  she  would  say,  "  Canst  not 
thou  do  what  these  youths,  what  these  maidens  can  ? 
or  do  they  do  it  of  themselves,  and  not  rather  by  the 
Lord  their  God  ?  The  Lord  their  God  gave  me  unto 
them.  Why  standest  thou  in  thyself,  and  so  standest 
not  ?  cast  thyself  upon  Him,  fear  not,  He  will  not 
withdraw  Himself  that  thou  shouldest  fill ;  cast  thy- 
self fearlessly  upon  Him,  He  will  receive,  and  will 
heal  thee."  And  I  blushed  exceedingly,  for  that  I 
yet  heard  the  murmuring  of  those  toys,  and  hung  in 
suspense.  And  she  again  seemed  to  say,  "  Stop  thine 
ears  against  those  thy  unclean  members  on  the  earth, 
that  they  may  be  mortified.  They  tell  thee  of 
delights,  but  not  as  doth  the  law  of  the  Lord  thy 
God."1  This  controversy  in  my  heart  was  self 
against  self  only.  But  Alypius  sitting  close  by  my 
side,  in  silence  waited  the  issue  of  my  unwonted 
emotion. 

1  Fs.  cxix.  85.    Old  Ver. 


Finds  relief  in  a  flood  of  tears.  203 

XII.  28.  And  when  a  deep  consideration  had 
from  the  secret  bottom  of  my  soul  drawn  together 
and  heaped  up  all  my  misery  in  the  sight  of  my 
heart,  there  arose  a  mighty  storm,  bringing  a  mighty 
shower  of  tears.  Which  that  I  might  pour  forth 
wholly,  in  its  natural  expressions,  I  rose  from  Aly- 
pius :  solitude  seemed  to  me  fitter  for  the  business 
of  weeping ;  so  I  retired  so  far  that  even  his  pres- 
ence could  not  be  a  burden  to  me.  Thus  was  it  with 
me,  and  he  perceived  something  of  it ;  for  I  suppose 
I  had  spoken  something,  wherein  the  tones  of  my 
voice  appeared  choked  with  weeping,  as  I  had  risen 
up.  He  remained  where  we  were  sitting,  most 
extremely  astonished.  I  cast  myself  down  I  know 
not  how,  under  a  certain  fig-tree,  giving  full  vent  to 
my  tears ;  and  the  floods  of  mine  eyes  gushed  out  an 
acceptable  sacrifice  to  Thee.  And,  not  indeed  in  these 
words,  yet  to  this  purpose,  spake  I  much  unto  Thee : 
and  TIiou,  0  Lord,  how  long  ?  how  long,  Lord,  wilt 
Tliou  be  angry  for  ever?1  Remember  not  our  for- 
mer iniquities,2  for  I  felt  that  I  was  held  by  them.  I 
sent  up  these  sorrowful  words ;  How  long  ?  how 
long?  "to-morrow,  and  to-morrow?"  Why  not 
now  ?  why  this  hour  is  there  not  an  end  to  my  un- 
cleanness  ? 

29.  So  was  I  speaking,  and  weeping  in  the  most 
bitter  contrition  of  my  heart,  when,  lo  !  I  heard  from 
a  neighboring  house  a  voice,  as  of  boy  or  girl,  I 
know  not,  chanting,  and  oft  repeating,  "Take  up 
and  read  ;  Take  up  and  read."  Instantly,  my  coun- 

1  Psalm  vi.  4.  2  Psaim  Ixxix.  5,  8. 


204  Determined  at  length 

___^ • 

tenance  altered,  I  began  to  think  most  intently, 
whether  children  were  wont  in  any  kind  of  play  to 
sing  such  words  :  nor  could  I  remember  ever  to  have 
heard  the  like.  So  checking  the  torrent  of  my  tears, 
I  arose ;  interpreting  it  to  be  no  other  than  a  com- 
mand from  God  to  open  the  book  and  read  the  first 
chapter  I  should  find.  For  I  had  heard  of  Antony, 
that  coming  in  during  the  reading  of  the  Gospel,  he 
received  the  admonition,  as  if  what  was  being  read 
was  spoken  to  him :  Go,  sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and 
give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven,  and  come  and  follow  me  :*  and  by  such 
oracle  he  was  forthwith  converted  unto  Thee.  — 
Eagerly  then  I  returned  to  the  place  where  Alypius 
was  sitting ;  for  there  had  I  laid  the  volume  of  the 
Apostle,  when  I  arose  thence.  I  seized,  opened,  and 
in  silence  read  that  passage,  on  which  my  eyes 
first  fell :  Not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness,  not  in 
chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in  strife  and  envy- 
ing :  but  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make 
not  provision  for  the  flesh,*  in  concupiscence.  No 
further  would  I  read  ;  nor  needed  I :  for  instantly  at 
the  end  of  this  sentence,  by  a  light  as  it  were  of 
serenity  infused  into  my  heart,  all  the  darkness  of 
doubt  vanished  away. 

30.  Then  putting  my  finger  between,  or  some 
other  mark,  I  shut  the  volume,  and  with  a  calmed 
countenance  made  it  known  to  Alypius.  *4Vnd  what 
was  wrought  in  him,  which  I  knew  not,  he  thus 
showed  me.  He  asked  to  see  what  I  had  read :  I 

l  Matt.  xix.  21.  2  Uom.  xiii.  13,  14. 


by  a  passage  of  Holy  ScrifAure.  205 

showed  him ;  .and  he  looked  even  further  than  I  had 
read,  and  I  knew  not  what  followed.  This  followed : 
him  that  is  weak  in  the  faith,  receive  y1  which  he  ap- 
plied to  himself,  and  disclosed  to  me.  And  by  this 
admonition  was  he  strengthened ;  and  by  a  good 
resolution  and  purpose,  and  according  to  his  natural 
character,  in  which  he  was  far  different  from  me,  and 
far  better,  without  any  turbulent  delay  he  joined  me. 
Thence  we  go  in  to  my  mother  ;  we  tell  her ;  she  re- 
joices ;  we  relate  in  order  how  it  took  place ;  she 
leaps  for  joy,  and  triumphs,  and  blesses  Thee,  Who 
art  able  to  do  above  that  which  we  a$k  or  think  j* 
for  she  perceived  that  Thou  hadst  given  her  more  for 
me,  than  she  was  wont  to  beg  by  her  pitiful  and  most 
sorrowful  groanings.  For  Thou  convertedst  me  unto 
Thyself,  so  that  I  sought  neither  wife,  nor  any  hope 
of  this  world,  standing  in  that  rule  of  faith,  where 
Thou  hadst  showed  me  unto  her  in  a  vision,  so  many 
years  before.3  And  Thou  didst  convert  her  mourn- 
ing into  joyS  much  more  plentiful  than  she  had 
desired,  and  in  a  much  more  precious  and  purer  way 
than  she  erst  required,  when  she  asked  grandchildren 
of  my  body. 

1  Rom.  xiv.  1.  8  Compare  Book  III.  xi. 

2  Eph.  iii.  20.  4  Psalm  xxx.  11. 

16 


THE  NINTH  BOOK. 


AUGUSTINE  DETERMINES  TO  DEVOTE  HIS  LIFE  TO  GOD,  AND  TO  ABAN- 
DON HIS  PROFESSION  OF  RHETORIC,  QUIETLY  HOWEVER — RETIRES 
TO  THE  COUNTRY  TO  PREPARE  HIMSELF  TO  RECEIVE  THE  RITE 

.  OF  BAPTISM,  AND  IS  BAPTIZED  WITH  ALYPIU8,  AND  HIS  SON  ADEO- 
DATU8  — AT  08TIA,  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  AFRICA,  HIS  MOTHER  MONICA 
DIES,  IN  HER  FIFTY-SIXTH  YEAR,  THE  THIRTY-THIRD  OF  AUGUS- 
TINE—  HER  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER. 


I.  1.  0  Lord,  I  am  Thy  servant;  lam  Thy  ser- 
vant, and  the  son  of  Thy  handmaid  /  Thou  hast 
broken  my  bonds  in  sunder.  I  will  offer  to  Thee  the 
sacrifice  of  praise. *  Let  my  heart  and  my  tongue 
praise  Thee  ;  yea,  let  all  my  bon#s  say,  0  Lord,  who 
is  like  unto  Thee  ?  Let  them  say,  and  answer  Thou, 
and  say  unto  my  soul,  I  am  thy  salvation. 2  Who 
am  I,  and  what  man  am  I  ?  Rather  what  evil  have  I 
not  been,  either  in  my  deeds,  or  if  not  in  my  deeds, 
in  my  words,  or  if  not  in  my  words,  in  my  will  ? 
But  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  good  and  merciful,  and  Thy 
right  hand  had  respect  unto  the  depth  of  my  death, 
and  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  emptied  that  abyss 
of  corruption.  And  this  Thy  whole  gift  was,  to  nill 
what  I  willed,  and  to  will  what  Thou  willedst.  But 
where,  through  all  those  years,  was  my  free  will,  and 

1  Psalm  cxvi.  16, 17.  2  Psalm  xxxv.  10. 


Resolves  to  give  up  his  profession.          207 

out  of  what  low  and  deep  recess  was  it  called  forth 
in  a  moment,  so  that  I  submitted  my  neck  to  Thy 
easy  yoke?  and  my  shoulders  unto  Thy  light  burden, 
0  Christ  JesitSj  my  Helper  and  my  Redeemer?* 
How  sweet  did  it  at  once  become  to  me,  to  give  up 
the  sweetnesses  of  those  toys !  and  what  I  feared  to 
be  parted  from,  was  now  a  joy  to  part  with.  For 
Thou  didst  cast  them  forth  from  me,  Thou  true  and 
highest  sweetness.  Thou  castedst  them  forth,  and  in 
place  of  them  enteredst  in  Thyself,  sweeter  than  all 
pleasure,  though  not  to  flesh  and  blood  ;  brighter 
than  all  light,  but  more  hidden  than  all  depths ; 
higher  than  all  honor,  but  not  to  the  high  in  their 
own  conceits.  Now  was  my  soul  free  from  the  biting 
cares  of  canvassing  and  getting,  and  weltering  in 
filth,  and  scratching  off  the  itch  of  lust.  And  my  in- 
fant tongue  spake  freely  to  Thee,  my  brightness,  and 
my  riches,  and  my  health,  the  Lord  my  God. 

II.  2.  And  I  resolved  in  Thy  sight,  not  tumult u- 
ously  to  tear,  but  gently  to  withdraw,  the  service  of 
my  tongue  from  the  marts  of  lip-labor :  that  the 
young,  who  studied  not  Thy  law,  nor  Thy  peace,  but 
lying  dotages  and  law-skirmishes,  should  no  longer 
buy  at  my  mouth  arms  for  their  madness.  And  very 
seasonably,  it  now  wanted  but  very  few  days  unto 
the  Vacation  of  the  Vintage,  and  I  resolved  to 
endure  them,  then  in  a  regular  way  to  take  my  leave, 
and  having  been  purchased  by  Thee,  to  sell  myself 
no  more.  Our  purpose  then  was  known  to  Thee ; 
but  to  men,  other  than  our  own  friends,  was  it  not 

1  Matt.  xi.  30.  2  I'salm  xix.  4. 


208  Augustine  resolves 

known.  For  we  had  agreed  among  ourselves  not  to 
disclose  it  to  any :  although  to  us,  now  ascending 
from  the  valley  of  tears,  and  singing  that  song  of  de- 
grees^ Thou  hadst  given  sharp  arroios,  and  destroying 
coals,  against  whatever  subtle  tongue,  that  on  pre- 
tence of  advising  would  thwart  us,  and  would  out  of 
love  devour  us,  as  it  doth  its  meat. 

3.  For  Thou  hadst  pierced  our  hearts  with  Thy 
love,  and  we  carried  Thy  words  as  it  were  fixed  in 
our   bowels :    and    the   examples   of  Thy   servants, 
•\vhom  for  black  Thou  hadst  made  bright,  and  for 
dead,  alive,  being  piled  together  in  the  receptacle  of 
our  thoughts,  kindled  and  burned  up  our  heavy  tor- 
por, that  we  should  not  sink  down  to  the  abyss ;  and 
they  fired  us  so  vehemently,  that  all  the  blasts  of 
subtle  tongues  from  gainsayers  might  only  inflame  us 
the  more  fiercely,  not  extinguish  us.     Nevertheless, 
because  for  Thy  Name's  sake  which  Thou  hast  hal- 
lowed throughout  the  earth,  this  our  vow  and  pur- 
pose might  also  find  some  to  commend  it,  it  seemed 
like    ostentation  not  to  wait  for  the  vacation   now 
so  near,  but  to  quit  beforehand  a  public  profession, 
which  was  before  the  eyes  of  all ;  so  that  all  looking 
on  this  act  of  mine,  and  observing  how  near  was  the 
time  of  vintage  which  I  wished  to  anticipate,  would 
talk  much  of  me,  as  if  I  had  desired  to  appear  some 
great  one.     And  what  end  had  it  served  me,  that 
people  should  repute  and  dispute  upon  my  purpose, 
and  that  our  good  should  be  evil  spoken  of?1 

4.  Moreover,  it  had  at  first  troubled  me,  that  in 

1  Kom.  xiv.  16. 


to  give  up  his  profession.  209 

this  very  summer  my  lungs  began  to  give  way,  amid 
too  great  literary  labor,  and  to  breathe  deeply  with 
difficulty,  and  by  the  pain  in  my  chest  to  show  that 
they  were  injured,  and  to  refuse  any  full  or  length- 
ened speaking;  this  had  troubled  me,  for  it  almost 
constrained  me  of  necessity,  to  lay  down  that  burden 
of  teaching ;  or,  if  I  could  be  cured  and  recover, 
at  least  to  intermit  it.  But  when  the  full  wish  for 
leisure,  that  I  might  see  how  that  Thou  art  the 
Lord*  arose,  and  was  fixed,  in  me,  my  God,  Thou 
knowest,  I  began  even  to  rejoice  that  I  had  this  sec- 
ondary, and  no  feigned,  excuse,  which  might  some- 
what moderate  the  offence  taken  by  those,  who  for 
their  sons'  sake  wished  me  never  to  have  the  freedom 
of  Thy  sons.  Full  then  of  such  joy,  I  endured  till 
that  interval  of  time  were  run ;  it  may  have  been 
some  twenty  days,  yet  they  were  endured  manfully ; 
endured,  for  the  covetousness  which  aforetime  bore  a 
part  of  this  heavy  business,  had  left  me,  and  I  re- 
mained alone,  and  had  been  overwhelmed,  had  not 
patience  taken  its  place.  Perchance,  some  of  Thy 
servants,  my  brethren,  may  say,  that  I  sinned  in  this, 
that  with  a  heart  fully  set  on  Thy  service,  I  suffered 
myself  to  sit  even  one  hour  in  the  chair  of  lies.  Nor 
would  I  be  contentious.  But  hast  not  Thou,  O  most 
merciful  Lord,  pardoned  and  remitted  this  sin  also, 
with  my  other  most  horrible  and  deadly  sins,  in  the 
holy  waters  of  baptism  ? 

III.    5.    Verecundus   was   worn   down   with   caro 
about  this  our  blessedness,  for  that  being  held  back 

l  Psalm  xlvi.  10. 


210  Conversion  of  Verecundus 

by  bonds,  whereby  he  was  most  straitly  bound,  he 
saw  that  he  should  be  severed  from  us.  For  himself 
was  not  yet  a  Christian,  his  wife  one  of  the  faithful ; 
and  yet  hereby,  more  rigidly  than  by  any  other  chain, 
was  he  let  and  hindered  from  the  journey  which 
we  had  now  essayed.  For  he  would  not,  he  said, 
be  a  Christian  on  any  other  terms  than  on  those  he 
could  not.  However,  he  offered  us  courteously  to 
remain  at  his  country  house,  so  long  as  I  should  stay 
there.  Thou,  O  Lord,  shalt  reward  him  in  the  res- 
urrection of  thejust^1  seeing  Thou  hast  already  given 
him  the  lot  of  the  righteous.2  For,  in  my  absence  at 
Rome,  he  was  seized  with  bodily  sickness,  and  therein 
being  made  a  Christian,  and  one  of  the  faithful,  he 
departed  this  life ;  thus  hadst  Thou  mercy  not  on 
him  only,  but  on  me  also:3  lest  remembering  the  ex- 
ceeding kindness  of  my  friend  towards  me,  yet  un- 
able to  number  him  among  Thy  flock,  I  should  be 
agonized  with  intolerable  sorrow.  Thanks  unto  Thee, 
my  God,  I  am  Thine :  Thy  suggestions  and  conso- 
lations tell  me,  Faithful  in  promises,  that  Thou  now 
requitest  Verecundus  for  his  country  house  of  Cassia- 
cum,  where  from  the  fever  of  the  world  I  reposed  in 
Thee,  with  the  eternal  freshness  of  Thy  Paradise  :  for 
that  Thou  hast  forgiven  him  his  sins  upon  earth,  in 
that  rich  mountain,  that  mountain  which  yieldeth 
milk,  Thine  own  mountain. 

6.  He,  however,  was  at  that  time  troubled,  but  Ne- 
bridius  rejoiced.  For  although  he  too,  not  being  yet 
a  Christian,  had  fallen  into  the  pit  of  that  most  per- 

l  Luke  xiv.  14.  2  Psalm  cxxv.  3.  3  mil.  ii.  27. 


and  Nebridius.  211 


nicious  error,  believing  the  flesh  of  Thy  Son  to  be  a 
phantom  :  yet  emerging  thence,  he  believed  as  I  did  •, 
not  as  yet  indued  with  any  Sacraments  of  Thy 
Church,  but  a  most  ardent  searcher-out  of  truth. 
Whom,  not  long  after  my  conversion  and  regener- 
ation by  Thy  Baptism,  becoming  also  a  faithful  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  Catholic,  and  serving  Thee  in  per- 
fect chastity  and  continence  amongst  his  people  in 
Africa,  his  whole  house  having  through  him  first  been 
made  Christian,  didst  Thou  release  from  the  flesh ; 
and  now  he  lives  in  Abraham's  bosom.1  Whatever 
that  be,  which  is  signified  by  that  bosom,  there  lives 
my  Nebridius,  my  sweet  friend,  and  Thy  child,  O 
Lord,  adopted  of  a  freed  man  :  there  he  liveth.  For 
what  other  place  is  there  for  such  a  soul  ?  There  he 
liveth,  whereof  he  asked  much  of  me,  a  poor  inex- 
perienced man.  Now  lays  he  not  his  ear  to  my 
mouth,  but  his  spiritual  mouth  unto  Thy  fountain, 
and  drinketh  as  much  as  he  can  receive,  wisdom  in 
proportion  to  his  thirst,  endlessly  happy.  Nor  do  1 
think  that  he  is  so  inebriated  therewith,  as  to  forget 
me ;  seeing  Thou,  Lord,  Whom  he  drinketh,  art  mind- 
ful of  me.  But  now  I  tried  to  comfort  Verecundus, 
who  sorrowed,  as  far  as  friendship  permitted,  that  my 
conversion  was  of  such  sort ;  exhorting  him  to  be- 
come faithful,  according  to  his  state  of  married  life ; 
and  expecting  Nebridius  to  follow  me,  which  he  was 
all  but  doing.  And  so  those  days  rolled  by  at  length  ; 
for  long  and  many  they  seemed,  for  the  love  I  bare  to 
the  easeful  liberty,  in  which  I  could  sing  to  Thee  from 

l  Compare  Augustini  De  Anima  IV.  15, 16.  —  ED. 


212  Retires  to  the  country 

my  inmost  marrow,  My  heart  hath  'said  unto  Thee, 
I  have  sought  Thy  face :  Thy  face,  Lord,  will  I 
seek. l 

IV.  7.  Now  was  the  day  come,  wherein  I  was  in 
deed  to  be  freed  of  my  Rhetoric  Professorship, 
whereof  in  thought  I  was  already  freed.  And  it  was 
done.  Thou  didst  rescue  my  tongue,  whence  Thou 
hadst  before  rescued  my  heart.  And  I  blessed  Thee, 
rejoicing ;  retiring  with  all  my  friends  to  the  villa. 
What  I  there  did  in  writing,  which  was  now  enlisted 
in  Thy  service,  though  still,  in  this  breathing-time  as 
it  were,  panting  from  the  school  of  pride,  my  Treat- 
ises may  witness,  as  well  what  I  debated  with  others, 
as  what  with  myself  alone,  before  Thee  :2  what  with 
Nebridius,  who  was  absent,  my  Epistles  bear  witness. 
And  when  shall  I  have  time  to  1'ehearse  all  Thy  great 
benefits  towards  me  at  that  time,  especially  when 
hasting  on  to  yet  greater  mercies  ?  For  my  remem- 
brance recalls  me,  and  pleasant  is  it  to  me,  O  Lord,  to 
confess  to  Thee,  by  what  inward  goads  Thou  tamedst 
me ;  and  how  Thou  hast  evened  me,  loicering  the 
mountains  and  hills  of  my  high  imaginations, 
straightening  my  crookedness,  and  smoothing  my 
rough  ways;  and  how  Thou  also  subduedst  the 
brother  of  my  heart,  Alypius,  unto  the  Name  of  Thy 
Only  Begotten,  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
which  he  would  not  at  first  vouchsafe  to  have  in- 
serted in  my  writings.  For  rather  would  he  have 

1  Psalm  xxvii.  8. 

2  Their  subjects,  and  order,  may  be  found  in  Augustine's  Retractatioues 
1. 1-4.— Ed. 


with  Alypius  and  his  mother.  ?  1 3 

them  savor  of  the  lofty  cedars  of  the  Schools,  which 
the  Lord  hath  now  broken  down?  than  of  the  whole- 
some herbs  of  the  Church,  the  antidote  against  ser-^ 
pents. 

8.  Oh,  in  what  accents  spake  I  unto  Thee,  my 
God,  when  I  read  the  Psalms  of  David,  those  faith- 
ful songs,  and  sounds  of  devotion,  which  allow  of  no 
swelling  spirit,  as  yet  a  Catechumen,  and  a  novice  in 
Thy  real  love,  resting  in  that  villa,  with  Alypius  a 
Catechumen,  my  mother  cleaving  to  me,  in  female 
garb,  with  masculine  faith,  with  the  tranquillity  of 
age,  motherly  love,  Christian  piety.  Oh,  what  ac- 
cents did  I  utter  unto  Thee  in  those  Psalms,  and 
how  was  I  by  them  kindled  towards  Thee,  and  on 
fire  to  rehearse  them,  if  possible,  through  the  whole 
world,  against  the  pride  of  mankind.  And  they  are 
sung  through  the  whole  world,  nor  can  any  hide 
himself  from  Thy  heat.*  With  what  vehement 
and  bitter  sorrow  was  I  angered  at  the  Manichees ! 
and  again  I  pitied  them,  for  that  they  knew  not 
those  Sacraments,  those  medicines,  and  were  mad 
against  the  antidote,  which  might  have  recovered 
them  of  their  madness.  How  I  would  they  had 
then  been  somewhere  near  me,  and  without  my 
knowing  that  they  were  there,  could  have  beheld  my 
countenance,  and  heard  my  words,  when  I  read  the 
fourth  Psalm  in  that  time  of  my  rest,  and  seen  how 
that  Psalm  wrought  upon  me.  When  I  catted^  the 
God  of  my  righteousness  heard  me  ;  in  tribulation 
Thou  enlargest  me.  Have  mercy  upon  me,  0  Lord, 

l  Psalm  xxix.  5.  2  Psalm  xix.  6. 


214          Application  of  the  fourth  Psalm. 

and  hear  my  prayer.1  Would  that  what  I  uttered 
on  these  words,  they  could  hear,  without  my  know- 
ing whether  they  heard,  lest  they  should  think  I 
spake  it  for  their  sakes.  For,  in  truth,  neither  should 
I  speak  the  same  things,  nor  in  the  same  way,  if  I 
perceived  that  they  heard  and  saw  me ;  nor  if  I 
spake  them,  would  they  so  receive  them,  as  when  I 
spake  by  and  for  myself  before  Thee,  out  of  the  nat- 
ural feelings  of  my  soul. 

9.  I  trembled  for  fear,  and  again  kindled  with 
hope,  and  with  rejoicing  in  Thy  mercy,  O  Father ; 
and  all  my  soul  issued  forth  both  by  mine  eyes  and 
voice,  when  Thy  good  Spirit  turning  unto  us,  said,  O 
ye  sons  of  men,  how  long  slow  of  heart  ?  why  do  ye 
love  vanity,  and  seek  after  leasing  .?*  For  I  had 
loved  vanity,  and  sought  after  leasing.  And  Thou, 
O  Lord,  hadst  already  magnified  Thy  Holy  One, 
raising  Sim  from  the  dead,  and  setting  Him  at 
Thy  right  hand,3  whence  from  on  high  He  should 
send  His  promise,  the  Comforter,  the  Spirit  of 
truth.*  And  He  had  already  sent  Him,  but  I  knew 
it  not ;  He  had  sent  Him,  because  He  was  now  mag- 
nified, rising  again  from  the  dead,  and  ascending  into 
heaven.5  For  till  then,  the  Spirit  was  not  yet  given, 
because  Jesus  was  not  yet  glorified.6'  And  the 
prophet  cries  out,  How  long,  slow  of  heart  ?  why  do 
ye  love  vanity,  and  seek  after  leasing  f  Know  this, 
that  the  Lord  hath  magnified  His  Holy  One.  He 

1  r».  iv.  1.    Old  Ver.  <  Luke  xxir.  49 ;  John  xiv.  16, 17. 

2  Ps.  ir.  2.  &  Acts  ii.  1—4. 

3  Eph.  i  20.  «  John  vii.  39. 


Applicat  ion  of  the  fo  urth  Psalm.  215 

cries  out,  How  long  ?  He  cries  out,  Know  this :  and 
I  so  long,  not  knowing,  loved  vanity,  and  sought 
after  leasing:  and  therefore  I  heard  and  trembled, 
because  it  was  spoken  unto  such  as  I  remembered 
myself  to  have  been.  For  in  those  phantoms  which 
I  had  held  for  truths,  was  there  vanity  and  leasing; 
and  I  spake  aloud  many  things  earnestly  and  forci- 
bly, in  the  bitterness  of  my  remembrance.  Which 
would  they  had  heard,  who  yet  love  vanity  and  seek 
after  leasing!  They  would  perchance  have  been 
troubled,  and  have  vomited  it  up ;  and  Thou  would- 
est  hear  them  when  tJiey  cried  unto  Thee  ;  for  by  a 
true  death  in  the  flesh  did  He  die  for  us,  who  now 
intercedeth  unto  Thee  for  us.1 

10.  I  further  read,  JBe  angry,  and  sin  not.2  And 
how  was  I  moved,  O  my  God,  who  had  now  learned 
to  be  angry  at  myself  for  things  past,  that  I  might 
not  sin  in  time  to  come !  Yea,  to  be  justly  angry ; 
for  it  was  not  another  nature  of  dark  spirits  which 
sinned  for  me,3  as  they  say  who  are  not  angry  at 
themselves,  and  treasure  up  wrath  against  the  day 
of  wrath,  and  of  the  revelation  of  Thy  just  judg- 
ment.* Nor  were  my  good  things  now  sought  from 
without,  nor  sought  with  the  eyes  of  flesh  in  the 
earthly  sun  ;  for  they  that  would  have  joy  from  with- 
out soon  become  vain,  and  waste  themselves  on  the 
things  seen,  and  temporal,  and  in  their  famished 
thoughts  do  lick  their  very  shadows.  Oh  that  they 

1  Rom.  viii.  34.  2  Eph.  iv.  26. 

3  The  allusion  is  to  the  Gnostico-SIanichaan  theory  of  evil,  which  places 
the  ultimate  source  of  sin  out  of  human  nature.  —  ED. 
*  Rom.  ii.  5. 


216  Applies  to  Ambrose 

were  wearied  put  with  their  famine,  and  said,  Who 
will  show  us  good  things  .?l  Then  we  would  say, 
and  they  hear,  The  light  of  Thy  countenance  is 
sealed  upon  us.2  For  we  are  not  that  light  which 
enlighteneth  every  man,3  but  we  are  enlightened  by 
Thee  ;  that  having  been  sometimes  darkness,  we  may 
be  light  in  Thee.*  Oh  that  they  could  see  the 
Eternal  internal,  which  having  tasted,  I  was  grieved 
that  I  could  not  show  It  them,  so  long  as  they 
brought  me  their  heart  in  their  eyes  roving  abroad 
from  Thee,  while  they  said,  Who  will  show  us  good 
things  ?s  For  there,  where  I  was  angry  within  my- 
self in  my  chamber \  where  I  was  inwardly  pricked, 
where  I  had  sacrificed,  slaying  my  old  man  and  com- 
mencing the  purpose  of  a  new  life,  putting  my  trust 
in  Thee,6 — there  hadst  Thou  begun  to  grow  sweet 
unto  me,  and  hadst  put  gladness  in  my  heart.1  And 
I  cried  out,  as  I  read  this  outwardly,  and  found  it  in- 
wardly. Nor  would  I  be  multiplied  with  worldly 
goods ;  wasting  away  time,  and  wasted  by  time ; 
whereas  I  had  in  Thy  eternal  Simple  Essence  other 
corn,  and  wine,  and  oil. 

11.  And  with  a  loud  cry  of  my  heart  I  cried  out 
in  the  next  verse,  Oh  !  in  peace,  Oh  for  The  Self- 
Same  !  Oh  what  a  word  !  I  will  lay  me  down  and 
sleep;*  for  who  shall  hinder  us,  when  cometh  to  pass 
that  saying  which  is  written,  Death  is  swallowed  up  in 
victory?9  And  Thou  surpassingly  art  the  Self-Same, 
who  art  not  changed;  and  in  Thee  is  rest  which 

1  Pa.  iv.  6.        3  John  i.  9.        «  Pa.  iv.  «.        7  Ps.  Iv.  7.        91  Cor.  xv.  54 

2  Ps.  iv.  6.       <  Eph.  v.  8.       6  ps.  iv.  5.       8  ps.  iv.  8. 


for  instruction  and  baptism.  217 

forgettcth  all  toil,  for  there  is  none  other  with  Thee, 
nor  are  we  to  seek  those  many  other  things,  which 
are  not  what  Thou  art :  but  Thou,  Lord,  alone  hast 
made  me  dwell  in  hope.  I  read,  and  kindled  ;  nor 
found  I  what  to  do  to  those  deaf  and  dead,  of  whom 
I  myself  had  been  one,  a  pestilent  person,  a  bitter 
and  a  blind  bawler  against  those  writings,  which  are 
honied  with  the  honey  of  heaven,  and  lightsome 
with  Thine  own  light :  and  I  was  consumed  with 
zeal  at  the  enemies  of  this  Scripture. 

12.  When  shall  I  recall  all  which  passed  in  those 
holydays  ?  Yet  neither  have  I  forgotten,  nor  will 
I  pass  over  the  severity  of  Thy  scourge,  and  the 
wonderful  swiftness  of  Thy  mercy.  Thou  didst 
then  torment  me  with  pain  in  my  teeth ;  which 
when  it  had  come  to  such  height  that  I  could  not 
speak,  it  came  into  my  heart  to  desire  all  my  friends 
present  to  pray  for  me  to  Thee,  the  God  of  all  man- 
ner of  health.  And  this  I  wrote  on  wax,  and  gave 
it  them  to  read.  Presently  so  soon  as  with  hum- 
ble devotion  we  had  bowed  our  knees,  that  pain 
went  away.  But  what  pain  ?  or  how  went  it  away  ? 
I  was  affrighted,  O  my  Lord,  my  God ;  for  from 
infancy  I  had  never  experienced  the  like.  And  the 
power  of  Thy  nod  was  deeply  impressed  upojj  me, 
and  rejoicing  in  faith,  I  praised  Thy  name.  And 
that  faith  suffered  me  not  to  be  at  ease  about  my 
past  sins,  which  were  not  yet  forgiven  me  by  Thy 
baptism. 

V.  13.  The  vintage-vacation  ended,  I  gave  no- 
tice to  the  Milanese  to  provide  their  scholars  with 


218  His  friend  Alypius. 

another  master  to  sell  words  to  them ;  for  that  I  had 
both  made  choice  to  serve  Thee,  and  through  my 
difficulty  of  breathing  and  pain  in  my  chest,  was  not 
equal  to  the  Professorship.  And  by  letters  I  signi- 
fied to  Thy  prelate,  the  holy  man  Ambrose,  my 
former  errors  and  present  desires,  begging  his  advice 
what  of  Thy  Scriptures  I  had  best  read,  to  become 
readier  and  fitter  for  receiving  so  great  grace.  He 
recommended  Isaiah  the  Prophet ;  I  believe,  because 
he  above  the  rest  is  a  more  clear  foreshower  of  the 
Gospel  and  of  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles.  But  I,  not 
understanding  the  first  lesson  in  him,  and  imagining 
the  whole  to  be  like  it,  laid  it  by,  to  be  resumed 
when  better  practised  in  our  Lord's  own  words. 

VI.  14.  When  the  time  was  come,  wherein  I 
was  to  give  in  my  name  for  baptism,  we  left  the 
country  and  returned  to  Milan.  It  pleased  Alypius 
also  to  be  with  me  bom  again1  in  Thee,  being  al- 
ready clothed  with  the  humility  befitting  Thy  Sacra- 
ments ;  and  a  most  valiant  tamer  of  the  body,  so  as, 
with  unwonted  venture,  to  wear  the  frozen  ground 
of  Italy  with  his  bare  feet.  We  joined  with  us  the 
boy  Adeodatus,  born  after  the  flesh;  of  my  sin.  Ex- 
cellently hadst  Thou  made  him.  He  was  not  quite 
fifteen,  and  in  wit  surpassed  many  grave  and  learned 
men.  I  confess  unto  Thee  Thy  gifts,  O  Lord  my 
God,  Creator  of  all,  and  abundantly  able  to  reform 
our  deformities :  for  I  had  no  part  in  that  boy,  but 

1  Renasci :  here,  as  often  in  the  patristic  writers,  employed  to  denote  the 
initiating  rite  of  baptism,  with  allusion,  probably,  to  the  phrase  "  born, 
of  water  and  the  Spirit,"  in  John  iii.  5.  —  ED. 


IRs  son  Adeodatus.  219 

the  sin.  If  I  brought  him  up  in  Thy  discipline,  it 
was  Thou,  none  else,  that  inspired  me  to  it.  I  con- 
fess unto  Thee  Thy  gifts.  There  is  a  book  of  mine 
entitled  The  Master  ;*  it  is  a  dialogue  between  him 
and  me.  Thou  knowest,  that  all  there  ascribed  to 
the  person  conversing  with  me  were  his  ideas,  in 
his  sixteenth  year.  Much  besides,  and  yet  more  ad- 
mirable, I  found  in  him.  His  talent  struck  awe  into 
me.  And  who  but  Thou  could  be  the  workmaster 
of  such  wonders?  Soon  didst  Thou  take  his  life  from 
the  earth :  and  I  now  remember  him  without  anxi- 
ety, fearing  nothing  for  his  childhood  or  youth,  or 
his  whole  self.  Him  we  joined  with  us,  our  contem- 
porary in  grace,  to  be  brought  up  in  Thy  discipline ; 
and  we  were  baptized,  and  anxiety  for  our  past  life 
vanished  from  us.  Nor  was  I  sated  in  those  days 
with  the  wondrous  sweetness  of  contemplating  the 
depth  of  Thy  counsels  concerning  the  salvation  of 
mankind.  How  did  I  weep,  in  hearing  Thy  Hymns 
and  Canticles,  touched  to  the  quick  by  the  voices  of 
Thy  sweet-attuned  church  !  The  voices  flowed  into 
mine  ears,  and  the  Truth  distilled  into  my  heart, 
whence  the  affections  of  my  devotion  overflowed, 
and  tears  ran  down,  and  happy  was  I  therein. 

VII.  15.  Not  long  had  the  church  of  Milan  be- 
gun to  xise  this  kind  of  consolation  and  exhortation, 
the  brethren  zealously  joining  with  harmony  of  voice 
and  hearts.  For  it  was  a  year,  or  not  much  more, 
since  Justina,  mother  to  the  Emperor  Valentinian, 
yet  a  child,  persecuted  Thy  servant  Ambrose,  in 

1  De  Magistro:  Compare  Augustiiii  Uutraclatioues  I.  12.  —  ED. 


220     Church  music;  Protasius  and  Gervasius. 

favor  of  her  heresy,  to  which  she  was  seduced  by 
the  Arians.  The  devout  people  kept  watch  in  the 
church,  ready  to  die  with  their  bishop  Thy  servant. 
There  my  mother  Thy  handmaid,  bearing  a  chief 
part  of  those  anxieties  and  watchings,  lived  for 
prayer.  I,  though  yet  unwarmed  by  the  heat  of  Thy 
Spirit,  still  was  stirred  up  by  the  sight  of  the  amazed 
and  disquieted  city.  Then  it  was  first  instituted  that 
after  the  manner  of  the  Eastern  churches,  hymns  and 
psalms  should  be  sung,  lest  the  people  should  wax 
faint  through  the  tediousness  of  sorrow :  and  from 
that  day  to  this  the  custom  is  retained,  —  divers,  yea, 
almost  all  Thy  congregations,  throughout  other  parts 
of  the  world,  following  herein. 

16.  Then  didst  Thou  by  a  vision  discover  to  Thy 
forenamed  bishop,  where  the  bodies  of  Gervasius  and 
Protasius  the  martyrs  lay  hid  (whom  Thou  hadst  in 
Thy  secret  treasury  stored  uncorrupted  so  many 
years),  whence  Thou  mightest  seasonably  produce 
them  to  repress  the  fury  of  a  woman  indeed,  but  an 
empress.  For  when  they  were  discovered  and  dug 
up,  and  with  due  honor  translated  to  the  Ambrosian 
Basilica,  not  only  they  who  were  vexed  with  unclean 
spirits  (the  devils  confessing  themselves)  were  cured, 
but  a  certain  man,  who  had  for  many  years  been 
blind,  a  citizen,  and  well  known  to  the  city,  asking 
and  hearing  the  reason  of  the  people's  confused 
joy,  sprang  forth,  desiring  his  guide  to  lead  him 
thither.  Led  thither,  he  begged  "to  be  allowed  to 
touch  with  his  handkerchief  the  bier  of  Thy  saints, 


Death  of  Monica.  221 

whose  death  is  precious  in  Thy  sight^  Which  when 
he  had  done,  and  put  to  his  eyes^they  were  forth- 
with opened.2  Thence  did  the  fame  spread,  thence 
Thy  praises  glowed,  shone ;  thence  the  mind  of  that 
enemy  Justina,  though  not  turned  to  the  soundness 
of  believing,  was  yet  turned  back  from  her  fury  of 
persecuting.  Thanks  to  Thee,  O  my  God.  Whence 
and  whither  hast  Thou  thus  led  my  remembrance, 
that  I  should  confess  these  things  also  unto  Thee  ? 
which  great  though  they  be,  I  had  passed  by  in  for- 
getfulness.  And  yet  then,,  when  the  odor  of  Thy 
ointments  was  so  fragrant,  did  I  not  run  after  Thee? 
Therefore  did  I  the  niore  weep  during  the  singing 
of  Thy  hymns;  at  first  sighing  after  Thee,  and  at 
length  breathing  in  Thee,  so  far  as  vital  breath  can 
enter  into  this  our  house  of  grass. 

VIII.  17.  Thou  that  makest  men  to  dwell  of  one 
mind  in  one  house*  didst  join  with  me  Euodius  also,  a 
young  man  of  my  own  city ;  who  being  an  officer  of 
court,  was  before  me  converted  to  Thee  and  bap- 
tized, and  quitting  his  secular  warfare,  girded  himself 
to  Thine.  We  were  together,  about  to  dwell  to- 
gether in  our  devout  purpose.  We  sought  where 
we  might  serve  Thee  most  usefully,  and  were  to- 
gether returning  to  Africa:  but  when  we  came  as  far 
as  Ostia,  my  mother  departed  this  life.  I  omit  much 
in  my  story,  being  in  haste.  Receive  my  confessions 
and  thanksgivings,  O  my  God,  for  innumerable  things 

1  Ps.  cxvi.  15. 

2  Augustine  mentions  this  miracle  again,  with  others,  in  De  Civitate 
Dei,  XXII.  viii  —  ED. 

3  Cant.  i.  2,  3.  <  Ts.  Ixviii.  0. 

17 


222  Death  of  Monica. 

whereof  I  am  silent.  But  I  will  not  omit  whatso- 
ever my  soul  would  bring  forth  concerning  Thy 
handmaid,  who  brought  me  forth,  both  in  the  flesh, 
that  I  might  be  born  to  this  temporal  light,  and  ih 
heart,  that  I  might  be  born  to  Light  eternal.  Not  her 
gifts,  but  Thine  in  her,  would  I  speak  of:  for  neither 
did  she  make  or  educate  herself.  Thou  createdst 
her;  nor  did  her  father  and  mother  know  what  crea- 
ture should  come  from  them.  And  the  sceptre  of 
Thy  Christ,  the  discipline  of  Thine  only  Son,  in  a 
Christian  house,  a  good  member  of  Thy  Church,  edu- 
cated her  in  Thy  fear.  Yet  for  her  good  discipline, 
was  she  wont  to  commend  not  so  much  her  mother's 
diligence,  as  that  of  a  certain  decrepit  maid-servant, 
who  had  carried  her  father  when  a  child,  as  little 
ones  use  to  be  carried  at  the  backs  of  elder  girls. 
For  which  reason,  and  for  her  great  age,  and  ex- 
cellent conversation,  was  she,  in  that  Christian  fam- 
ily, well  respected  by  its  heads ;  and  the  charge  of 
her  master's  daughters  was  intrusted  to  her;  to 
which  she  gave  diligent  heed,  restraining  them  ear- 
nestly, when  necessary,  with  holy  severity,  and  teach- 
ing them  with  a  grave  discretion.  For,  except  at 
those  hours  wherein  they  were  most  temperately  fed 
at  their  parent's  table,  she  would  not  suffer  them, 
though  parched  with  thirst,  to  drink  even  water ;  pre- 
venting an  evil  custom,  and  adding  this  wholesome 
advice  :  "You  drink  water  now,  because  you  have  not 
wine  in  your  power ;  but  when  you  come  to  be  mar- 
ried, and  be  made  mistresses  of  cellars  and  cup- 
boards, you  will  scorn  water,  but  the  custom  of 


Her  early  years.  223 


drinking  will  abide."  By  this  method  of  instruction, 
and  the  authority  she  had,  she  abated  the  greediness 
of  childhood,  and  moulded  their  very  thirst  to  such 
an  excellent  moderation,  that  what  they  should  not, 
that  they  would  not. 

18.  And  yet  (as  Thy  handmaid  told  me  her  son) 
there  had  crept  upon  her  a  love  of  wine.  For  when 
(as  the  custom  was)  she  was  bidden  by  her  parents 
to  draw  wine  out  of  the  hogshead,  holding  the  vessel 
under  the  tap,  before  she  poured  the  wine  into  the 
flagon,  she  sipped  a  little  with  the  tip  of  her  lips : 
for  more  her  natural  taste  refused.  This  she  did, 
noi  out  of  any  love  of  drink,  but  out  of  the  exuber- 
ance of  youth,  whereby  it  boils  over  in  mirthful 
freaks,  which  in  youthful  spirits  are  wont  to  be  kept 
under  by  the  gravity  of  their  elders.  And  thus  by 
adding  to  that  little,  daily  littles  (for  whoso  despis- 
eth  little  things^  shall  fall  by  little  and  little)?  she 
had  fallen  into  such  a  habit,  as  greedily  to  drink  off 
her  little  cup  brim-full  almost  of  wine.  Where  was 
then  that  discreet  old  woman,  and  her  earnest  coun- 
termanding? Would  aught  avail  against  a  secret  dis- 
ease, if  Thy  healing  hand,  O  Lord,  watched  not  over 
us  ?  Father,  mother,  and  governors  absent,  Thou 
present,  who  createdst,  who  callest,  who  also  by 
those  set  over  us  workest  something  towards  the  sal- 
vation of  our  souls,  what  didst  Thou  then,  O  my 
God?  how  didst  Thou  cure  her?  how  heal  her? 
Didst  Thou  not  out  of  another  soul  bring  forth  a 
hard  and  a  sharp  taunt,  like  a  lancet  out  of  Thy  se- 

1  Eccl.  xix.  1. 


224  Her  early  years 


eret  store,  and  with  one  touch  remove  all  that  foul 
stuff?  For  a  maid-servant  with  whom  she  used  to  go 

0    ' 

to  the  cellar,  falling  to  words  (as  it  happens)  with 
her  little  mistress,  when  alone  with  her,  taunted  her 
with  this  fault,  with  most  bitter  insult,  calling  her 
wine-bibber.  With  which  taunt,  stung  to  the  quick, 
she  saw  the  foulness  of  her  fault,  and  instantly  con- 
demned and  forsook  it.  As  flattering  friends  pervert, 
so  reproachful  enemies  often  correct.  Yet  by  what 
themselves  purposed,  not  what  Thou  doest  by  them, 
dost  Thou  repay  them.  For  she  in  her  anger  sought 
to  vex  her  young  mistress,  not  to  amend  her;  and 
did  it  in  private,  either  because  the  time  and  place  of 
the  quarrel  so  found  them  ;  or  lest  she  herself  should 
be  blamed  for  discovering  it  thus  late.  But  Thou, 
Lord,  Governor  of  all  in  heaven  and  earth,  who  turn- 
est  to  Thy  purposes  the  deepest  currents,  and  rulest 
the  turbulence  of  the  tide  of  times,  didst  by  the  very 
unhealthiness  of  one  soul,  heal  another;  lest  any, 
when  he  observes  this,  should  ascribe  it  to  his  own 
power,  even  when  another,  whom  he  wished  to  be 
reformed,  is  reformed  through  words  of  his. 

IX.  19.  Brought  up  thus  modestly  and  soberly, 
and  made  subject  rather  by  Thee  to  her  parents,  than 
by  her  parents  to  Thee,  so  soon  as  she  was  of  mar- 
riageable age,  being  bestowed  upon  a  husband,  she 
served  him  as  her  lord ;  and  did  her  diligence  to  win 
him  unto  Thee,  preaching  Thee  unto  him  by  her  con- 
versation ;  by  which  Thou  madest  her  beautiful,  rev- 
erently amiable,  and  admirable  unto  her  husband. 
And  she  so  endured  the  wronging  of  her  bed,  as 


and  married  life.  225 


never  to  have  any  quarrel  with  her  husband  thereon. 
For  she  looked  for  Thy  mercy  upon  him,  that  be- 
lieving in  Thee,  he  might  be  made  chaste.  Besides 
this,  he  was  fervid,  as  in  .his  affections,  so  in  anger : 
but  she  had  learnt,  not  to  resist  an  angry  husb'and, 
even  in  word.  Only  when  he  was  smoothed  and  tran- 
quil, and  in  a  temper  to  receive  it,  she  would  give  an 
account  of  her  actions,  if  haply  he  had  over-hastily 
taken  offence.  In  a  word,  while  many  matrons,  who 
had  milder  husbands,  yet  bore  even  in  their  faces 
marks  of  blows,  and  would  in  familiar  talk  blame 
their  husbands'  lives,  she  would  blame  their  tongues, 
giving  them,  as  in  jest,  earnest  advice  :  "  That  from 
the  time  they  heard  the  marriage  writings  read  to 
them,  they  should  account  them  as  indentures, 
whereby  they  were  made  servants ;  and  so,  remem- 
bering their  condition,  ought  not  to  set  themselves 
up  against  their  lords."  And  when  they,  knowing 
what  a  choleric  husband  she  endured,  marvelled  that 
it  had  never  been  heard,  nor  by  any  token  perceived, 
that  Patricius  had  beaten  his  wife,  or  that  there  had 
been  any  domestic  difference  between  them,  even  for 
one  day,  and  confidentially  asked  the  reason,  she 
taught  them  her  practice  above  mentioned.  Those 
wives  who  observed  it  found  the  benefit,  and  thanked 
her ;  those  who  observed  it  not,  found  no  relief,  and 
suffered. 

20.  Her  mother-in-law  also,  at  first  by  whisperings 
of  evil  servants  incensed  against  her,  she  so  over- 
came by  kindnesses  and  persevering  endurance  and 
meekness,  that  she  of  her  own  accord  discovered  to 


226  Eminent  for  meekness 

her  son  the  meddling  tongues  whereby  the  domestic 
peace  betwixt  her  and  her  daughter-in-law  had  been 
disturbed,  asking  him  to  correct  them.  Then,  when 
iu  compliance  with  his  mother,  and  for  the  well- 
ordering  of  the  family,  and  the  harmony  of  its  mem- 
bers, he  had  with  stripes  corrected  them,  she  prom- 
ised the  like  recompense  to  any  who,  to  please  her, 
should  speak  ill  of  her  daughter-in-law  to  her :  and, 
none  now  venturing,  they  lived  together  with  a  re- 
markable sweetness  of  mutual  kindness. 

21.  This  great  gift  also  Thou  bestowedst,  O  my 
God,  my  Mercy,  upon  that  good  handmaid  of.  Thine 
in  whose  womb  Thou  createdst  me,  that  between 
any  disagreeing  and  discordant  parties,  where  she 
was  able,  she  showed  herself  such  a  peacemaker,  that 
hearing  on  both  sides  most  bitter  things,  such  as 
swelling  and  indigested  choler  uses  to  break  out  into, 
when  the  crudities  of  enmities  are  breathed  out  in 
sour  discourses  to  a  present  friend  against  an  absent 
enemy,  she  never  would  disclose  aught  of  the  one 
unto  the  other,  but  what  might  tend  to  their  recon- 
cilement. A  small  good  this  might  appear  to  me, 
did  I  not  to  my  grief  know  numberless  persons,  who 
through  some  horrible  and  wide-spreading  contagion 
of  sin,  not  only  disclose  to  persons  mutually  angered 
things  said  in  anger,  but  add,  withal,  things  never 
spoken  ;  whereas  to  a  humane  man,  it  ought  to  seem 
a  light  thing  not  to  foment  or  increase  ill-will  by 
ill  words,  but  to  study  withal  by  good  words  to 
quench  it.  Such  was  she,  Thyself,  her  most  inward 
Instructor,  teaching  her  in  the  school  of  the  heart. 


and  peace-making.  227 

22.  Finally,  her  own  husband,  towards  the  very 
end  of  his  earthly  life,  did  she  gain  unto  Thee ;  nor 
had  she  to  complain  after  he  became  a  Christian,  of 
what,  before  he  was  a  believer,  she  had  borne  from 
him.  She  was  also  the  servant  of  Thy  servants ; 
whosoever  of  them  knew  her,  did  much  praise  and 
honor  and  love  Thee  in  her ;  for  through  the  witness 
of  the  fruits  of  a  holy  conversation  they  perceived 
Thy  presence  in  her  heart.  For  she  had  been  the 
wife  of  one  man,  had  requited  her 'parents,  had  g ov- 
er ned  her  house  piously,  was  well  reported  of  for 
good  works,  had  brought  up  children,1  travailing  in 
birth  of  them,2  as  often  as  she  saw  them  swerving 
from  Thee.  Lastly,  as  though  she  had  been  mother 
of  us  all,  she  took  care  of  all  of  Thy  servants,  O 
Lord  (whom  on  occasion  of  Thy  own  gift  Thou  suf- 
ferest  to  speak),  who,  before  her  sleeping  in  Thee, 
lived  united  together  having  received  the  grace  of 
Thy  baptism,  and  served  us,  as  though  she  had  been 
child  to  us  all. 

X.  23.  The  day  now  approaching  whereon  she 
was  to  depart  this  life  (which  day  Thou  well  knew- 
est,  we  knew  not),  it  came  to  pass,  Thyself,  as  I  be- 
lieve, by  Thy  secret  ways  so  ordering  it,  that  she  and 
I  stood  alone,  leaning  in  a  certain  window,  which 
looked  into  the  garden  of  the  house  where  we  now 
lay,  at  Ostia ;  where  removed  from  the  din  of  men, 
we  were  recruiting  from  the  fatigues  of  a  long  jour- 
ney, for  the  voyage.  "VVe  were  discoursing  then  to- 
gether, alone,  very  sweetly ;  and  forgetting  those 

1  1  Tim.  v.  4,  9, 10.  2  Gal.  iv.  19. 


228  Her  last  conversation 

things  ichich  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto 
those  things  which  are  before,1  we  were  inquiring 
between  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  the  Truth, 
which  Thou  art,  of  what  sort  the  eternal  life  of  the 
saints  was  to  be,  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man.* 
But  yet  unsatisfied,  we  gasped  with  the  mouth  of 
our  heart,  after  those  heavenly  streams  of  Thy  foun- 
tain, the  fountain  of  life,  which  is  with  Thee  /s  that 
being  bedewed  thence  according  to  our  capacity,  we 
might  in  some  sort  meditate  upon  so  high  a  mystery. 
24.  And  when  our  discourse  was  brought  to  that 
point,  that  we  perceived  the  very  highest  delight  of 
the  earthly  senses,  in  the  very  purest  material  light, 
was,  in  respect  of  the  sweetness  of  that  heavenly 
life,  not  only  not  worthy  of  comparison,  but  not  even 
of  mention,  we,  raising  up  ourselves  with  a  more 
glowing  affection  towards  the  "  Self-same,"  did  by 
degrees  pass  through  all  things  bodily,  even  the  very 
heaven,  whence  sun  and  moon  and  stars  shine  upon 
the  earth ;  yea,  we  were  soaring  higher  yet,  by  in- 
ward musing,  and  discourse,  and  admiring  of  Thy 
works ;  and  we  came  to  our  own  minds,  and  went 
beyond  them,  that  we  might  arrive  at  that  region  of 
never-failing  plenty,  where  Thou  feedest  Israel*  for 
ever  with  the  food  of  truth,  and  where  life  is  the 
very  Wisdom  by  whom  all  these  things  are  made, 
both  what  have  been,  and  what  shall  be.  But 
Wisdom  is  not  made,  but  is,  as  she  hath  been,  and  so 
shall  she  be  ever ;  yea  rather,  to  "  have  been,"  and 

1  Phil.  iii.  13.          2  1  Cor.  ii.  9.         3  rs.  xxxvi.  9.         *  Ts.  Ixxx.  1. 


with  Augustine.  229 


"  hereafter  to  be,"  are  not  in  her,  but  only  "  to  be," 
seeing  she  is  eternal.  For  to  "have  been,"  and  to 
"be  hereafter,"  are  not  eternal.  And  while  we  were 
discoursing  and  panting  after  her,  we  slightly  touched 
on  her  with  the  whole  effort  of  our  heart ;  and  we 
sighed,  and  there  we  left  bound  the  first  fruits  of 
the  Spirit;'*  and  returned  to  vocal  expressions  of  our 
mouth,  where  the  word  spoken  has  beginning  and 
end.  And  what  is  like  unto  Thy  Word,  our  Lord, 
who  endureth  in  Himself  without  becoming  old,  and 
maketh  all  things  new  ?* 

25.  We  were  saying  to  ourselves  then  :  If  the  tu- 
mult of  the  flesh  were  hushed,  hushed  the  images  of 
earth,  and  waters  and  air,  hushed  also  the  poles  of 
heaven,  yea  the  very  soul  hushed  to  herself,  and  by 
not  thinking  on  self  surmounting  self,  hushed  all 
dreams  and  imaginary  revelations,  every  tongue  and 
every  sign,  and  whatsoever  exists  only  in  transition, 
—  if  they  all  should  be  hushed,  having  only  roused 
our  ears  to  Him  who  made  them  (since  if  any  can 
hear,  all  these  say,  We  made  not  ourselves,  but  HA 
made  us  that  abideth  forever),  and  He  alone  should 
then  speak,  not  by  them,  but  by  Himself,  that  we 
might  hear  His  Word,  not  through  any  tongue  of 
flesh,  nor  angel's  voice,  nor  sound  of  thunder,  nor  in 
the  dark  riddle  of  a  similitude,  but  might  hear  Him 
whom  in  these  things  we  love,  might  hear  His  very 
Self  without  these  (as  we  two  now  strained  our- 
selves to  hear,  and  in  swift  thought  touched  on  that 
Eternal  Wisdom,  which  abideth  over  all)  ;  —  could 

l  Rom.  viii.  22.  2  Wisd.  vii.  27. 


230          Her  presentiment  of  her  own  death. 

this  be  continued  on,  and  other  visions  of  kind  far 
unlike  be  withdrawn,  and  this  one  should  ravish,  and 
absorb,  and  wrap  up  its  beholder  amid  these  inward 
joys,  so  that  life  might  be  for  ever  like  that  one  mo- 
ment of  intuition  which  now  we  sighed  after ;  were 
not  this  the  Enter  into  thy  Master's  joy  ?l  And 
when  shall  that  be  ?  When  ice  shall  all  rise  again, 
though  we  shall  not  all  be  changed?2 

26.  Such  things  was  I  speaking,  and  even  if  not 
in  this  very  manner,  and  these  same  words,  yet,  Lord, 
Thou  knowest,  that  in  that  day  when  we  were  speak- 
ing of  these  things,  and  this  world  with  all  its  de- 
lights became,  as  we  spake,  contemptible  to  us,  my 
mother  said,  "Son,  for  mine  own  part  I  have  no 
further  delight  in  anything  in  this  life.  What  I  do 
here  any  longer,  and  to  what  end  I  am  here,  I  know 
not,  now  that  my  hopes  in  this  world  are  ac- 
complished. One  thing  there  was,  for  which  I  de- 
sired to  linger  for  a  while  in  this  life,  that  I  might 
see  thee  a  Catholic  Christian  before  I  died.  My  God 
hath  done  this  for  me  more  abundantly,  in  that  I 
now  see  thee  despising  earthly  happiness,  and  be- 
come His  servant.  What  do  I  here  ?" 

XI.  27.  What  answer  I  made  her  unto  these 
things,  I  remember  not.  For  scarce  five  days  after, 
or  not  much  more,  she  fell  sick  of  a  fever ;  and  in 
that  sickness  one  day  she  fell  into  a  swoon,  and  was 
for  a  while  withdrawn  from  these  visible  things. 
We  hastened  round  her ;  but  she  was  soon  brought 
back  to  her  senses ;  and  looking  on  me  and  my 

l  Matt.  xxv.  21.  2  l  Cor.  xv.  51.    Vulg.,  etc. 


Her  presentiment  of  her  own  death.          231 

brother  standing  by  her,  said  to  us  inquiringly, 
"  Where  was  I  ?  "  And  then  looking  fixedly  on  us, 
who  were  amazed  with  grief,  she  said :  "  Here  shall 
you  bury  your  mother."  I  held  my  peace,  and  re- 
frained weeping ;  but  my  brother  spake  something, 
wishing  for  her,  as  the  happier  lot,  that  she  might 
die,  not  in  a  strange  place,  but  in  her  own  land. 
Whereat,  with  anxious  look,  checking  him  with  her 
eyes,  because  he  still  savored  such  things,  and  then 
looking  upon  me,  "Behold,"  saith  she,  "what  he 
saith :"  and  soon  after  to  us  both,  "Lay  this  body 
anywhere ;  let  not  the  care  for  that  anyway  dis- 
quiet you :  tnis  only  I  request,  that  you  would  re- 
member me  at  the  Lord's  altar,  wherever  you  be."1 


l  This  incident  is  cited  by  Roman  Catholic  writers,  in  proof  that  the 
Papal  custom  of  prayers  for  the  dead  has  the  authority  of  Augustine, 
and  of  the  church  of  his  day,  in  its  favor.  But  it  should  be  noticed,  that 
the  mother  of  Augustine  was  an  eminently  pious  person,  and  had  been 
so  for  years.  The  "  remembrance  "  which  she  desired  might  be  had  of 
her  at  the  sacramental  table,  was  not,  therefore,  a  prayer  either  for  her 
regeneration,  or  for  her  deliverance  from  penal  torment.  Augustine,  it 
is  true,  in  the  petition  which  he  offers,  entreats  God  to  pardon  the  sins 
which  his  mother  must  have  committed  after  her  baptism.  But  he  adds : 
"I  believe  Thou  hast  already  done  what  I  ask."  This  prayer  is  merely 
the  transfer  of  filial  affection  from  time  to  eternity.  He  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  praying  for  the  spiritual  welfare,  the  perfect  deliverance  from  sin,' 
of  a  beloved  pareut,  while  she  was  upon  earth.  This  supplication  he  con- 
tinues after  her  decease,  from  a  merely  instinctive  feeling,  and  in  logi- 
cal inconsistency  with  his  own  belief  that  she  had  passed  beyoud  the  need 
of  prayers.  For  he  was  so  certain  of  her  being  in  bliss,  that  he  even 
"  thought  it  not  fitting  to  solemnize  that  funeral  with  tearful  lament, 
and  groanings,  as  though  she  were  unhappy  or  altogether  dead  ;  whereas 
she  was  neither  unhappy  in  her  death,  nor  altogether  dead."  Monica  in 
her  request,  and  Augustine  in  his  compliance  with  it,  followed  the  prac- 
tice of  the  Primitive  church,  but  not  of  the  Papal.  The  prayers  of  the 
Primitive  church,  in  which  the  departed  believer  was  mentioned,  were 
eucharistic,  —  an  offering  of  thanks  for  what  divine  grace  had  wrought  in 


232  Her  indifference 


And  having  delivered  this  sentiment  in  what  words 
she  could,  she  held  her  peace,  being  exercised  by  her 
growing  sickness. 

28.  But  I,  considering  Thy  gifts,  Thou  unseen 
God,  which  Thou  instillest  into  the  hearts  of  Thy 
faithful  ones,  whence  wondrous  fruits  do  spring,  did 
rejoice  and  give  thanks  to  Thee,  recalling  what  I 
before  knew,  how  careful  and  anxious  she  had  ever 
been,  as  to  her  place  of  burial,  which  she  had  pro- 
vided and  prepared  for  herself  by  the  body  of  her 
husband.  For  because  they  had  lived  in  great  har- 
mony together,  she  also  wished  (so  little  can  the  hu- 
man mind  embrace  things  divine)  to»have  this  ad- 
dition to  that  happiness,  and  to  have  it  remembered 
among  men,  that  after  her  pilgrimage  beyond  the 
seas,  what  was  earthly  of  this  united  pair  had  been 
permitted  to  be  united  beneath  the  same  earth.  But 
when  this  vanity,  through  the  fulness  of  Thy  good- 
ness, first  began  to  cease  in  her  heart,  I  knew  not, 

nim.  The  churches,  for  example,  "  assembled  upon  the  anniversary  of 
the  death  of  a  martyr,  at  his  tomb.  The  narrative  of  his  sufferings  was 
read,  he  was  particularly  mentioned  in  the  public  prayers,  and  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  administered,  in  the  vivid  consciousness  of  the  endur- 
ing communion  between  the  living  believer,  and  those  who  sleep  in 
Jesus.  The  church  in  Smyrna,  in  the  reign  of  Aurelius,  specifies  as  the 
true  end  in  celebrating  these  anniversaries,  that  it  should  contribute  to 
the  commemoration  of  those  who  had  finished  their  course,  and  to  train 
and  prepare  those  that  shall  come  after.  In  answer  to  the  objection, 
that  such  remembrance  was  idolatrous,  they  say :  Christ  we  worship  as 
the  Son  of  God;  but  the  martyrs  we  deservedly  love  as  the  disciples  and 
imitators  of  our  Lord,  of  whom  we  would  become  associates  and  fellow- 
disciples."  (Eusebius,  IV.  15.  Guericke,  $  38.)  The  custom,  however, 
was  liable  to  abuse,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  distinctively  1'itpal 
custom,  of  prayers  for  the  salvation  and  repose  of  the  souls  of  the  dead. 
But  this  result  dates  later  than  the  fourth  century.  —  ED. 


respecting  her  burial-place.  233 

and  rejoiced  that  it  was  so ;  though  indeed  in  that 
discourse  in  the  window,  when  she  said,  "  What  do  I 
here  any  longer?"  there  appeared  no  desire  of  dying 
in  her  own  country.  I  heard  afterwards,  also,  that 
while  we  were  at  Ostia,  she  with  a  maternal  con- 
fidence, when  I  was  absent,  one  day  discoursed  with 
certain  of  my  friends  about  the  contempt  of  this  life, 
and  the  blessing  of  death ;  and  when  they  were 
amazed  at  such  courage  which  Thou  hadst  given  to 
a  woman,  and  asked,  "  Whether  she  were  not  afraid 
to  leave  her  body  so  far  from  her  own  city  ?"  she  re- 
plied, "Nothing  is  far  to  God;  nor  was  it  to  be 
feared  lest  at  the  end  of  the  world,  He  should  not 
recognize  whence  He  were  to  raise  me  up."  On  the 
ninth  day  then  of  her  sickness,  and  the  fifty-sixth 
year  of  her  age,  and  the  three  and  thirtieth  of  mine, 
was  that  religious  and  holy  soul  freed  from  the  body. 
XII.  29.  I  closed  her  eyes ;  and  there  flowed 
wnthal  a  mighty  sorrow  into  my  heart,  which  was 
overflowing  into  tears ;  mine  eyes  at  the  same  time, 
by  the  violent  command  of  my  mind,  drank  up  their 
fountain  wholly  dry ;  and  woe  was  me  in  such  a 
strife !  But  when  she  breathed  her  last,  the  boy  Ade- 
odatus  burst  out  into  a  loud  lament ;  then,  checked 
by  us  all,  held  his  peace.  In  like  manner,  also,  a 
childish  feeling  in  me,  which  was  finding  its  vent  in 
weeping,  through  the  juvenile  voice  of  my  heart,  was 
checked  and  silenced.  For  we  thought  it  not  fitting 
to  solemnize  that  funeral  with  tearful  lament,  and 
groanings,  as  though  she  were  unhappy,  or  alto- 
gether dead ;  whereas  she  was  neither  unhappy  in 


234  Buries  her,  but 


her  death,  nor  altogether  dead.  Of  this  we  were  as- 
sured on  good  grounds,  the  testimony  of  her  good 
conversation  and  her  faith  unfeigned. 

30.  What  then  was  it  which  did  grievously  pain 
me  within,  but  a  fresh  wound  wrought  through  the 
sudden  wrench  of  our  most  sweet  and  dear  custom 
of  living  together?      I  joyed   indeed   in   one   tes- 
timony of  her  last  sickness,  that  mingling  her  en- 
dearments with  my  acts  of  duty,  she  called  me  "  duti- 
ful," and   mentioned,  with   great   affection  of  love, 
that  she  never  had  heard  any  harsh  or  reproachful 
sound  uttered  by  my  mouth  against  her.     But  yet,  O 
my  God,  Who  madest  us,  what  comparison  is  there 
betwixt  that  honor  that  I  paid  to  her,  and  her  sla- 
very for  me?     Being  then  deprived  of  so  great  com- 
fort in  her,  my  soul  was  wounded,  and  that  life  rent 
asunder  as  it  were,  which,  of  hers  and  mine  together, 
had  been  made  but  one. 

31.  The  boy  then  being  stilled  from  weeping,  Euo- 
dius  took   up   the   Psalter,  and   began  to  sing  the 
Psalm,  I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  judgment  to  Thee, 
O  Lord,1  the  whole  house  answering.     But  hearing 
what  we  were  doing,  many  brethren  and  religious 
women  came  together;  and  whilst  they  whose  office 
it  was  made  ready  for  the  burial,  as  the  manner  is,  I 
(in  another  part  of  the  house,  where  I  might  prop- 
erly), together  with  those  who  thought  not  fit  to 
leave   me,   discoursed    upon    something    fitting    the 
time ;  and  by  this  balm  of  truth,  I  assuaged  that  tor- 
ment, known  to  Thee,  and  which  they  listening  in- 

l  realm  ci. 


without  immoderate  grief.  235 

tently,  knew  not,  conceiving  me  to  be  without  all 
sense  of  sorrow.  But  in  Thy  ears,  where  none  of 
them  heard,  I  chided  the  weakness  of  my  feelings, 
and  refrained  my  flood  of  grief,  and  it  gave  way  a 
little  unto  me ;  but  again  it  came,  as  with  a  tide,  yet 
not  so  as  to  burst  out  into  tears,  nor  to  a  change  of 
countenance  ;  still  I  knew  what  I  was  keeping  down 
in  my  heart.  And  being  very  much  displeased  that 
these  human  things  had  such  power  over  me,  which 
in  the  due  order  and  appointment  of  our  natural 
condition  must  needs  come  to  pass,  with  a  new  grief 
I  grieved  for  my  grief,  and  was  thus  worn  by  a 
double  sorrow. 

32.  And  behold,  the  corpse  was  carried  to  the 
burial ;  we  went  and  returned  without  tears.  For 
neither  in  those  prayers  which  we  poured  forth  unto 
Thee,  when  the  sacrifice  of  our  ransom  was  offered 
for  her  (the  corpse  being  by  the  grave's  side,  as  the 
manner  there  is,  previous  to  its  being  laid  therein), 
did  I  weep  even  during  those  prayers ;  yet  was  I  the 
whole  day  in  secret  heavily  sad,  and  with  troubled 
mind  prayed  Thee,  as  I  could,  to  heal  my  sorrow ;  yet 
Thou  didst  not ;  impressing,  I  believe,  upon  my  mem- 
ory by  this  one  instance,  how  strong  is  the  bond  of 
all  habit,  even  upon  a  soul,  which  now  feeds  upon  no 
deceiving  word.  It  seemed  also  good  to  me  to  go 
and  bathe,  having  heard  that  the  bath  had  its  name 
(balneum)  from  the  Greek  /JoAavetov,  for  that  it 
drives  sadness  from  the  mind.  And  this  also  I  con- 
fess unto  Thy  mercy,  Father  of  the  fatherless?  that 

1  I'salui  Ixviii.  5. 


236  Finds  relief  in  tears. 

I  bathed,  and  was  the  same  as  before  I  bathed.  For 
the  bitterness  of  sorrow  could  not  be  sweated  out  of 
my  heart.  Then  I  slept,  and  woke  lip  again,  and 
found  my  grief  not  a  little  softened ;  and  as  I  was 
alone  in  my  bed,  I  remembered  those  true  verses  of 

Thy  Ambrose.     For  Thou  art  the 

i 

Maker  of  all,  the  Lord, 

And  Ruler  of  the  height; 
Who,  robing  day  in  light,  hast  poured 

Soft  slumbers  o'er  the  night, 

That  to  our  limbs  the  power 

Of  toil  may  be  renewed, 
And  hearts  be  raised  that  sink  and  cower, 

And  sorrows  be  subdued. 

33.  And  then  by  little  and  little  I  recovered  my 
former  thoughts  of  Thy  handmaid,  her  holy  conver- 
sation towards  Thee,  her  holy  tenderness  and  observ- 
ance towards  us,  whereof  I  was  suddenly  deprived; 
and  I  was  minded  to  weep  in  Thy  sight,  for  her  and 
for  myself,  in  her  behalf  and  in  my  own.  And  I 
gave  way  to  the  tears  which  I  before  restrained,  to 
overflow  as  much  as  they  desired ;  reposing  my  heart 
upon  them ;  and  it  found  rest  in  them,  for  it  was  in 
Thy  ears,  not  in  those  of  man,  who  would  have  scorn- 
fully interpreted  my  weeping.  And  now,  Lord,  in 
writing  I  confess  it  unto  Thee.  Read  it  who  will, 
and  interpret  it  how  he  will ;  and  if  he  finds  sin 
therein,  that  I  wept  my  mother  for  a  small  portion 
of  an  hour  (the  mother  who  for  the  time  was  dead 
to  mine  eyes,  who  had  fry  many  years  wept  for  me 


His  prayer  in  her  behalf.  237 

tli at  I  might  live  in  Thine  eyes),  let  him  not  deride 
me  ;  but  rather,  if  he  be  one  of  large  charity,  let  him 
weep  himself  for  my  sins  unto  Thee,  the  father  of  all 
the  brethren  of  Thy  Christ. 

XIII.  34.  But  now,  with  a  heart  cured  of  that 
wound,  wherein  it  might  seem  blamable  for  an 
earthly  feeling,  I  pour  out  unto  Thee,  our  God,  in 
behalf  of  that  Thy  handmaid,  a  far  different  kind  of 
tears,  flowing  from  a  spirit  shaken  by  the  thoughts  of 
the  dangers  of  every  soul  that  dieth  in  Adam.1  And 
although  she,  having  been  quickened  in  Christ,  even 
before  her  release  from  the  flesh  had  lived  to  the 
praise  of  Thy  name  for  her  faith  and  conversation ; 
yet  dare  I  not  say  tha^  from  the  time  that  Thou  re- 
generatedst  her  by  baptism,  no  word  issued  from  her 
mouth  against  Thy  commandment.2  Thy  Son,  the 
Truth,  hath  said,  Whosoever  shatt  say  unto  his 
brother,  Thou  fool,  shall  be  in  danger  of  hell  fire? 
And  woe  be  even  unto  the  commendable  life  of  men, 
if,  laying  aside  mercy,  Thou  shouldest  examine  it. 
But  because  Thou  art  not  extreme  in  inquiring  after 
sins,  we  confidently  hope  to  find  some  place  with 
Thee.  But  whosoever  reckons  up  his  real  merits  to 
Thee,  what  reckons  he  up  to  Thee  but  Thine  own 
gifts  ?  Oh  that  men  would  know  themselves  to  be 
men !  and  that  he  that  glorieth,  -would  glory  in  the 
Lord* 

35.  I  therefore,  O  my  Praise  and  my  Life,  God  of 
iny  heart,  laying  aside  for  awhile  her  good  deeds,  for 
which  I  give  thanks  to  Thee  with  joy,  do  now  be- 

1 1  Cor.  XY.  22.       2  Matt.  xii.  36.    '  3  Matt.  v.  22.       42  Cor.  x.  17. 
18 


238  If  is  prayer  in  her  behalf. 

seech  Thee  for  the  sins  of  my  mother.  Hearken  unto 
me,  I  entreat  Thee,  by  the  Medicine  of  our  wounds, 
Who  hung  upon  the  tree,  and  now  sitting  at  Thy 
right  hand,  maketh  intercession  to  Thee  for  us.1  I 
know  that  she  dealt  mercifully,  and  from  her  heart 
forgave  her  debtors  their  debts ;  do  Thou  also  for- 
give her  debts?  whatever  she  may  have  contracted  in 
so  many  years,  since  the  water  of  salvation.  For- 
give her,  Lord,  forgive,  I  beseech  Thee;  enter  not 
into  judgment  with  her?  Let  Thy  mercy  be  exalted 
above  TJiy  justice,*  since  Thy  words  are  true,  and 
Thou  hast  promised  mercy  unto  the  merciful;* 
which  thou  gavest  them  to  be,  0  Thou  icho  wilt 
have  mercy  on  whom  Thou  wilt  have  mercy,  and 
wilt  have  compassion  on  whom  Thou  hast  had 
compassion? 

36.  And  I  believe  Thou  hast  already  done  what  I 
ask;  but  accept,  O  Lord,  the  free-will  offerings  of  my 
mouthj  For  she,  the  day  of  her  dissolution  now  at 
hand,  took  no  thought  to  have  her  body  sumptuously 
wound  up,  or  embalmed  with  spices;  nor  desired  she 
a  choice  monument,  or  to  be  buried  in  her  own  land. 
These  things  she  enjoined  us  not,  but  desired  only 
to  have  her  name  commemorated  at  Thy  altar,  which 
she  had  served  without  intermission  of  one  day: 
whence  she  knew  that  holy,  sacrifice  to  be  dispensed, 
by  which  the  handwriting  that  was  against  us 
is  blotted  out  ;*  through  which  the  enemy  was  tri- 

1  Rom.  viii.  34.  4  James  ii.  13.  1  Fs.  cxix.  108. 

2  Matt,  xviii.  35,  vi.  12.         5  Matt,  v.  7.  8  Col.  ii.  14. 
8  Ps.  cxliii  2.                        6  Rom.  ix.  15. 


His  prayer  in  her  behalf.  239 

umphed  over,  who,  summing  up  our  offences,  and 
seeking  what  to  lay  to  our  charge,  found  nothing  in 
Him^  in  whom  we  conquer.  Who  shall  restore  to 
Him  His  innocent  blood  ?  Who  repay  Him  the  price 
wherewith  He  bought  us,  and  so  take  us  from  Him? 
Unto  the  sacrament  of  our  ransom,  Thy  handmaid 
bound  her  soul  by  the  bond  of  faith.  Let  none 
sever  her  from  Thy  protection  ;  let  neither  the  lion 
nor  the  dragon*  interpose  himself  by  force  or  fraud. 
For  she  will  not  answer  that  she  owes  nothing,  lest 
she  be  convicted  and  seized  by  the  crafty  accuser; 
but  she  will  answer,  that  her  sins  are  forgiven  her 
by  Him,  to  whom  none  can  repay  that  price,  which 
He,  who  owed  nothing,  paid  for  us. 

37.  May  she  rest,  then,  in  peace,  with  the  only  hus- 
band she  ever  had ;  whom  she  obeyed,  with  patience 
bringing  forth  fruit*  unto  Thee,  that  she  might  win 
him  also  unto  Thee.  And  inspire,  O  Lord  my  God, 
inspire  Thy  servants  my  brethren,  Thy  sons  my  mas- 
ters, whom  with  voice  and  heart  and  pen  I  serve, 
that  so  many  as  shall  read  these  Confessions,  may  at 
Thy  altar  remember  Monica  Thy  handmaid,  with  Pat- 
ricius  her  husband,  by  whose  bodies  Thou  broughtest 
me  into  this  life,  I  know  not  how.  May  they  with 
devout  affection  remember  my  parents  in  this  transi- 
tory light,  who  are  my  brethren  under  Thee  our  Fa- 
ther in  our  Catholic  Mother,  and  my  fellow-citizens 
in  that  eternal  Jerusalem  which  Thy  pilgrim  people 
sigh  after  from  their  exodus,  even  until  their  return 

1  John  xiv.  30.          2  Psalm  xci.  13.          3  Luke  viii.  li. 


240  His  prayer  in  her  behalf. 

thither.  That  so,  my  mother's  last  request  of  me 
may,  through  my  confessions,  more  than  through 
my  prayers,  be,  through  the  prayers  of  many,  more 
abundantly  fulfilled  to  her. 


THE  TENTH  BOOK. 


HAVING  IN  THE  FORMER  BOOKS  SPOKEN  OF  HIMSELF  BrfFOHB  HIS 
RECEIVING  THE  RITE  OF  BAPTISM,  IN  THIS  AUGUSTINi  CONJjMSES 
WHAT  HE  THEN  WAS  — BUT  FIRST,  HE  INQUIRES  BY  WHAT  FAC- 
ULTY WE  CAN  KNOW  GOD  AT  ALL,  WHENCE  HE  ENLARGES  ON  THK 
MYSTERIOUS  CHARACTER  OF  THE  MEMORY,  WHEREIN  GOD.  BEING 
MADE  KNOWN,  DWELLS,  BUT  WHICH  COULD  NOT  DISCOVER  HIM  — 
THEN  HE  EXAMINES  HIS  OWN  TRIALS  UNDER  TUB  TRIPLE  WIVISION 
OF  TEMPTATION,  "  LUST  OF  THE  FLESH,  LUST  OF  THE  EYES,  AND 
PRIDE" — WHAT  CHRISTIAN  CONTINENCY  PRESCRIBES  AS  TO  EACH 
—  CHRIST  TUB  ONLY  MEDIATOR,  WHO  HEALS  AND  WILL  HKAL  ALL 
INFIRMITIES. 

I.  1.  Let  me  know  Thee,  O  Lord,  who  knowest 
me;  let  me  know  Thee  as  lam  known.1  Power  of 
my  soul,  enter  into  it,  and  fit  it  for  Thee,  that  Thou 
mayest  have  and  hold  it  without  spot  or  wrinkle.3 
This  is  my  hope,  therefore  do  I  speak;*  and  in  this 
hope  do  I  rejoice,  when  I  rejoice  healthfully.  Other 
things  of  this  life  are  the  less  to  be  sorrowed  for,  the 
more  they  are  sorrowed  for ;  and  the  more  to  be  sor- 
rowed for,  the  less  men  sorrow  for  them.  For  behold, 
Thou  lovest  the  truth*  and  he  that  doeth  it,  cometh  to 
the  tight.5  This  would  I  do  in  my  heart  before  Thee 
in  confession ;  and  in  my  writing,  before  many  wit- 
nesses. 

1  1  Cor.  xiii.  12.  3  Pg.  cxvi.  10.  «  John  iii.  20. 

2  Eph.  v.  27.  *  Ps.  li.  6. 


242  Auyustin^s  motives 

II.  2.  And  from  Thee,  O  Lord,  unto  whose  eyes1 
the  abyss  of  man's  conscience  is  naked,  what  could 
be  hidden  in  me  even  though  I  would  not  confess  it? 
I  might  hide  Thee  from  me,  not  me  from  Thee.    But 
now,  since  my  groaning  is  witness  that  I  am  dis- 
pleased with  myself,  Thou  shinest  out,  and  art  pleas- 
ing, and  beloved,  and  longed  for;   that  I  may  be 
ashamed  of  myself,  and  renounce  myself,  and  choose 
Thee,  and  neither  please  Thee   nor  myself  but  in 
Thee.     To  Thee  therefore,  O  Lord,  am  I  open,  what- 
ever I  am ;  and  for  what  reason  I  confess  unto  Thee, 
I  have  said.     Nor  do  I  confess  with  words  and  sounds 
of  the  flesh,  but  with  the  words  of  my  soul,  and  the 
cry  of  the  thought  which  Thy  ear  knoweth.     For 
when  I  am  evil,  then  to  confess  to  Thee,  is  nothing 
else  than  to  be  displeased  with  myself;  but  when 
holy,  nothing  else  than  to  ascribe  glory  to  Thee :  be- 
cause Thou,  O   Lord,  blessest  the  godly?  but  first 
Thou  justifiest  him  when  ungodly?    My  confession 
then,  O  my  God,  in  Thy  sight,  is  made  silently,  and 
not  silently.     For  in  sound,  it  is  silent :  in  affection, 
it  cries  aloud.     For  neither  do  I  utter  anything  right 
unto  men,  which  Thou  hast  not  before  heard  from 
me;  nor  dost  Thou  hear  any  such  thing  from  me, 
which  Thou  hast  not  first  said  unto  me. 

III.  3.  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  men,  that 
they  should  hear  my  confessions,  —  as  if  they  could 
heal  all  my  infirmities*  —  a  race  curious  to  know  the 
lives  of  others,  slothful  to  amend  their  own  ?     Why 
seek  they  to  hear  from  me  what  I  am,  who  will  not 

1  Heb.  iv.  13.  2  Ps.  v.  12.  3  R0m.  w.  6.  «  Fs.  ciii.  3. 


in  publishing  his  Confessions.  243 

hear  from  Thee  what  themselves  are?  And  how 
know  they,  when  from  myself  they  hear  of  myself, 
whether  I  say  true ;  seeing  no  man  knows  what  is  in 
man,  but  the  spirit  of  man  which  is  in  him?1  But  if 
they  hear  from  Thee  of  themselves,  they  cannot  say, 
"  The  Lord  lieth."  For  what  is  it  to  hear  from  Thee 
of  themselves,  but  to  know  themselves  ?  and  who 
knoweth  and  saith,  "It  is  false,"  unless  himself  lieth  ? 
But  because  charity  believeth  all  things3  (that  is, 
among  those  whom  knitting  unto  itself  it  maketh 
one),  I  also,  O  Lord,  will  in  such  wise  confess  unto 
Thee,  that  men  may  hear,  to  whom  I  cannot  demon- 
strate whether  I  confess  truly ;  yet  they  believe  me, 
whose  ears  charity  openeth  unto  me. 

4.  But  do  Thou,  my  inmost  Physician,  make  plain 
unto  me  what  object  I  mayB  gain  by  doing  it.  For 
the  confessions  of  my  past  sins,  which  Thou  hastybr- 
given  and  covered?  that  Thou  mightest  bless  me  in 
Thee,  changing  my  soul  by  faith  and  Thy  sacrament, 
when  read  and  heard,  stir  up  the  heart,  that  it  sleep 
not  in  despair  and  say  "  I  cannot,"  but  awake  in  the 
love  of  Thy  mercy  and  the  sweetness  of  Thy  grace, 
whereby  whoso  is  weak  is  strong,  when  by  it  he 
becomes  conscious  of  his  own  weakness.  And  the 
good  delight  to  hear  of  the  past  evils  of  such  as  are 
now  freed  from  them,  not  because  they  are  evils,  but 
because  they  have  been,  and  are  not.  With  what 
object,  then,  O  Lord  my  God,  to  whom  my  conscience 
daily  confesseth,  trusting  more  in  the  hope  of  Thy 
mercy  than  in  her  own  innocency,  —  with  what 

1  1  Cor.  ii.  11.  2  1  Cor.  xiii.  7.  3  Ps.  xxxii.  1 


244  Acknowledges  their  imperfections. 

object,  I  pray,  do  I  by  this  book  confess  to  men  also 
in  Thy  presence  what  I  now  am,  not  what  I  have 
been?  For  that  other  object,  the  knowledge  of  what 
I  have  been,  I  have  spoken  of  and  attained.  But 
what  I  now  ana,  at  the  very  time  of  making  these 
confessions,  divers  desire  to  know,  who  have  or  have 
not  known  me,  who  have  heard  from  me  or  of  me ; 
but  their  ear  is  not  at  my  heart,  where  I  am,  what- 
ever I  am.  They  wish  then  to  hear  me  confess  what 
I  am  within  ;  whither  neither  their  eye,  nor  ear,  nor 
understanding,  can  reach  ;  they  wish  it,  as  ready  to 
believe, — but  will  they  know?  For  charity,  whereby 
they  are  good,  telleth  them,  that  in  my  confessions  I 
lie  not ;  and  she  in  them,  believeth  me. 

IV.  5.  But  for  what  object  would  they  hear  this? 
Do  they  desire  to  joy  with  me,  when  they  hear  how 
near,  by  Thy  gift,  I  approach  unto  Thee?  and  to 
pray  for  me,  when  they  shall  hear  how  much  I  am 
held  back  by  my  own  weight  ?  To  such  will  I  dis- 
cover myself.  For  it  is  no  mean  object,  O  Lord  my 
God,  that  by  many,  thanks  should  be  given  to  Thee 
on  our  behalf,  *  and  Thou  be  by  many  intreated  for 
us.  Let  the  brotherly  mind  love  in  me  what  Thou 
teachest  is  to  be  loved,  and  lament  what  Thou  teach- 
est  is  to  be  lamented.  Let  a  brotherly,  not  an  alien 
mind  do  this,  —  not  that  of  the  strange  children,whose 
mouth  talketh  of  vanity,  and  their  right  hand  is  a 
hand  of  //>/</ ^>Vy,2  but  that  brotherly  mind,  which, 
when  it  approveth,  rejoiceth  for  me,  and  when  it  dis- 
approveth,  is  sorry  for  me;  because,  whether  it  ap- 

1  1  Cor.  ii.  11.  '          «  Psalm  cxliv.  1L 


Acknowledges  their  imperfections.          245 

proveth  or  disapproveth,  it  loveth  me.  To  such  will  I 
discover  myself:  they  will  breathe  freely  at  my  good 
deeds,  sigh  for  my  ill.  My  good  deeds  are  Thine  ap- 
pointments, and  Thy  gifts ;  my  evil  ones  are  my  of- 
fences, and  Thy  judgments.  Let  them  breathe  freely 
at  the  one,  sigh  at  the  other ;  and  let  hymns  and 
weeping  go  up  into  Thy  sight,  out  of  the  hearts  of  my 
brethren,  Thy  censers.1  And  do  Thou,  O  Lord,  be 
pleased  with  the  incense  of  Thy  holy  temple,  have 
mercy  upon  me  according  to  TJiy  great  mercy  for 
Thine  own  name's  sake;*  and  no  ways  forsaking 
what  Thou  hast  begun,  perfect  my  imperfections. 

6.  This  is  the  object  of  my  confessions  of  what  I  am, 
not  of  what  I  have  been, —  to  confess  this,  not  before 
Thee  only,  in  a  secret  exultation  with  trembling?  and 
secret  sorrow  with  hope,  but  in  the  ears  also  of  the 
believing  sons  of  men,  sharers  of  my  joy,  and  part- 
ners of  my  mortality,  my  fellow-citizens,  and  fellow- 
pilgrims,  who  are  gone  before,  or  are  to  follow  on, 
companions  of  my  way.  These  are  Thy  servants,  my 
brethren,  whom  Thou  wiliest  to  be  Thy  sons ;  my  mas- 
ters, whom  Thou  commandest  me  to  serve,  if3!  would 
live  with  Thee,  of  Thee.  But  this  Thy  Word  were 
little  did  it  only  command  by  speaking,  and  not  go 
before  in  performing.  This,  then,  I  do  in  deed  and 
word  ;  this  I  do  under  Thy  wings ;  in  over  great 
peril,  were  not  my  soul  subdued  unto  Thee  under 
Thy  wings,  and  my  infirmity  known  unto  Thee.  I 
am  a  little  one,  but  my  Father  ever  liveth,  and  my 
Guardian  is  sufficient  for  me.  For  He  is  the  same 

l  Rev.  viii.  3.  2  ps..  li.  l.  3  pg.  u.  n. 


246  Analysis  of  the  love 

who  begat  me,  and  defends  me;  and  Thou  Thyself 
art  all  my  good ;  Thou,  Almighty,  who  art  with  me, 
yea,  before  I  am  with  Thee.  To  such,  then,  whom 
Thou  commandest  me  to  serve,  will  I  discover,  not 
what  I  have  been,  but  what  I  now  am  and  what  I 
still  am.  JSut  neither  do  I  judge  myself.1  Thus  there- 
fore I  would  be  heard. 

V.  7.  For  Thou,  Lord,  dost  judge  me : 2  because, 
although  no  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  but 
the  spirit  of  a  man  which  is  in  him,  yet  is  there 
something  of  man,  which  not  even  the  spirit  of 
man  that  is  in  him,  itself  knoweth?  But  Thou, 
Lord,  knowest  all  of  him,  Who  hast  made  him. 
Yet  I,  though  in  Thy  sight  I  despise  myself,  and 
account  myself  dust  and  ashes,  know  something  of 
Thee,  which  I  know  not  of  myself.  And,  truly,  now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  not  face  to  face 4  as 
yet.  So  long  therefore  as  I  be  absent  from  Thee,5 1 
am  more  present  with  myself  than  with  Thee ;  and 
yet  I  know  Thee  that  Thou  art  in  no  ways  tempt- 
ab.le ;  but  I  know  not  what  temptations  I  can  resist, 
and  whSt  ones  I  cannot.  And  there  is  hope,  because 
Thou  art  faithful,  Who  will  not  suffer  us  to  be  tempted 
above  that  we  are  able;  but  wilt  with  the  tempta- 
tion also  make  a  way  to  escape,  that  zee  may  be  able 
to  bear  it.6  I  will  confess  then  what  I  know  of  my- 
self, I  will  confess  also  what  I  know  not  of  myself. 
And  that  because  what  I  do  know  of  myself,  I  know 
by  Thy  shining  upon  me  ;  and  what  I  know  not  of 

1 1  Cor.  iv.  3.  31  Cor.  ii.  11.  «  2  Cor.  v.  6. 

2  1  Cor.  iv.  3.  4  1  Cor.  xiii.  12.  6  l  Cor.  x.  3. 


and  knowledge  of  God.  247 

myself  so  long  know  I  it  not,  until  my  darkness  be 
made  as  the  noonday l  in  Thy  countenance. 

VI.  8.  Not  with  doubting,  but  with  assured  con- 
sciousness, do  I  love  Thee,  Lord.  Thou  hast  smitten 
my  heart  with  Thy  word,  and  I  loved  Thee.  Yea, 
also  heaven,  and  earth,  and  all  that  therein  is,  behold, 
on  every  side  they  bid  me  love  Thee ;  nor  cease  to 
say  so  unto  all,  that  they  may  be  without  excuse.  — 
But  more  deeply  wilt  Thou  have  mercy  on  whom 
Thou  wilt  have  mercy,  and  wilt  have  compassion  on 
whom  thou  hast  had  compassion : 2  else  in  deaf  ears 
do  the  heaven  and  the  earth  speak  Thy  praises.  But 
what  do  I  love,  when  I  love  Thee  ?  not  the  beauty  of 
bodies,  nor  the  fair  harmony  of  time,  nor  the  bright- 
ness of  the  light  so  gladsome  to  our  eyes,  nor  sweet 
melodies  of  varied  songs,  nor  the  fragrant  smell  of 
flowers  and  ointments  and  spices,  not  manna  and 
honey,  not  limbs  acceptable  to  the  embracements  of 
flesh.  None  of  these  do  I  love,  when  I  love  my  God ; 
and  yet  I  love  a  kind  of  light,  a  kind  of  melody,  a 
kind  of  fragrance,  a  kind  of  meat,  and  a  kind  of  em- 
bracement,  when  I  love  my  God,  —  the  light,  the 
melody,  the  fragrance,  the  meat,  the  embraceinent  of 
the  inner  man  :  where  there  shineth  unto  my  soul, 
what  space  cannot  contain,  and  there  soundeth,  what 
time  beareth  not  away,  and  there  smelleth,  what 
breathing  disperseth  not,  and  there  tasteth,  what  eat- 
ing diminisheth  not,  and  there  clingeth,  what  satiety 
divorceth  not.  This  is  it  which  I  love  when  I  love 
my  God. 

1  Isa.  Iri'ii.  10.  2  Rom.  i.  20,  ix.  15. 


248  Do  we  know  God  by  the  senses? 

9.  And  what  is  this  ?  I  asked  the  earth,  and  it  an- 
swered me,  "I  am  not  He;"  and  whatsoever  are  in 
it  confessed  the  same.  I  asked  the  sea  and  the 
deeps,  and  the  living  creeping  things,  and  they  an- 
swered, "We  are  not  thy  God,  seek  above  us."  I 
asked  the  moving  air ;  and  the  whole  air  with  his  in- 
habitants answered,  "Anaxiiuenes  was  deceived,  I  . 
am  not  God."  I  asked  the  heavens,  sun,  moon,  stars, 
"Kor  (say  they)  are  we  the  God  whom  thou  seek- 
est."  And  I  replied  unto  all  the  things  which  en- 
compass the  door  of  my  flesh  :  "  Ye  have  told  me  of 
my  God,  that  ye  are  not  He ;  tell  me  something  of 
Him."  And  they  cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  "  He 
made  us."  My  questioning  them,  was  my  thoughts 
on  them  :  and  their  form  of  beauty  gave  the  answer. 
And  I  turned  myself  unto  myself,  and  said  to  my- 
self, "Who  art  thou?"  And  I  answered,  "A  man." 
And  behold,  in  me  there  present  themselves  to  me 
soul  and  body,  one  without,  the  other  within.  By 
which  of  these  ought  I  to  seek  my  God  ?  I  had 
sought  Him  in  the  body  from  earth  to  heaven,  so  far 
as  I  could  send  messengers,  the  beams  of  mine  eyes. 
But  the  better  is  the  inner,  for  to  it  as  presiding  and 
judging,  all  the  bodily  messengers  repoi'ted  the  an- 
swers of  heaven  and  earth,  and  all  things  therein, 
who  said,  "We  are  not  God,  but  He  made  us." 
These  things  did  my  inner  man  know  by  the  min- 
istry of  the  outer :  I,  the  inner,  knew  them ;  I,  the 
mind,  through  the  senses  of  my  body.  I  asked  the 
whole  frame  of  the  world  about  my  God ;  and  it  an- 
swered me,  "I  am  not  He,  but  He  made  me." 


Do  we  know  God  by  the  senses?  249 

10.  Is  not  this  corporeal  figure  apparent  to  all 
whose  senses  are  perfect  ?  why  then  speaks  it  not 
the  same  to  all?  Animals  small  and  great  see  it, 
but  they  cannot  interrogate  it :  because  no  reason  is 
set  over  their  senses  to  judge  on  what  they  report. 
But  men  can  interrogate,  so  that  the  invisible  things 
of  God  are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the 
things  that  are  made  y1  only,  that  by  love  of  them, 
they  are  made  subject  unto  them,  and  subjects  can- 
not judge.  Things  do  not  answer,  unless  the  ques- 
tioners can  judge :  they  do  not,  however,  change 
their  voice  (i.  e.,  their  appearance),  so  as  to  appear 
one  way  to  this  man,  another  way  to  that ;  but  ap- 
pearing the  same  way  to  both,  are  dumb  to  this, 
speak  to  that ;  yea,  rather  speak  to  all ;  but  they  only 
understand,  who  compare  the  voice  received  from 
without,  with  the  truth  within.  For  truth  saith  unto 
me,  "  Neither  heaven,  nor  earth,  nor  any  other  body, 
is  thy  God."  And  the  very  nature  of  created  things 
saitli  to  him  that  seeth  them  :  "  They  are  a  mass  ;  a 
mass  is  less  in  a  part  than  in  the  whole."  Now,  O 
my  soul  (to  thee  I  speak),  thou  art  my  better  part : 
for  thou  quickenest  the  mass  of  my  body,  giving  it 
life,  which  no  body  can  give  to  a  body :  but  thy  God 
is  even  unto  thee  the  Life  of  thy  life. 

VII.  11.  What  then  do  I  love,  when  I  love  my 
God  ?  Who  is  lie  so  high  above  my  soul  ?  Yet  by 
my  very  soul  will  I  ascend  to  Him.  I  will  pass  be- 
yond that  vital  power  whereby  I  am  united  to  my 
body,  filling  its  whole  frame  with  life.  Nor  can  I  by 

1  Rom.  i.  20. 


250  Do  we  Tcnow  God  by  the  senses? 

that  power  find  my  God  ;  for  so,  horse  and  mule  that 
have  no  understanding 1  might  find  Him ;  seeing  it 
is  the  same  power,  whereby  even  their  bodies  live. 
But  another  power  there  is,  not  that  only  whereby  1 
animate  (vivifico),  but  that  too  whereby  I  imbue 
Avith  sense  (sensifico),  my  flesh  which  the  Lord  hath 
framed  for  me :  commanding  the  eye  not  to  hear, 
and  the  ear  not  to  see  ;  but  the  eye,  to  see,  and  the 
ear,  to  hear ;  and  to  the  other  senses  severally,  what 
is  to  each  their  own  peculiar  seats  and  offices; 
which,  being  divers,  I  the  one  mind,  do  through 
them  act.  I  will  pass  beyond  this  sensational  power 
also ;  for  this  also  have  the  horse  and  mule,  for  they 
also  perceive  through  the  body. 

VIII.  12.  I  will  pass  then  beyond  this  power  of 
my  nature  also,  rising  by  degrees  unto  Him,  who 
made  me.  And  I  come  to  the  fields  and  spacious 
palaces  of  my  memory,2  where  are  the  treasures  of 
innumerable  images,  brought  into  it  from  things  of 
all  sorts,  perceived  by  the  senses.  There  is  stored 
up  whatsoever  besides  we  think,  either  by  enlarging 
or  diminishing,  or  any  other  way  varying  those  things 
which  the  sense  hath  come  to ;  and  whatever  else 
hath  been  committed  and  laid  .up,  which  forgetful- 
ness  hath  not  yet  swallowed  up  and  buried.  When 


1  Psalm  xxxii.  9. 

2  By  "  memory,"  in  this  analysis  of  the  mental  operations,  which  fol- 
lows, Augustine  includes  what  goes  under  the  name  of  "  reflective  con- 
sciousness," in  the  nomenclature  of  modern  philosophy;  and  in  many 
places  his  meaning  will  be  clearer,  if  the  term  '•  consciousness"  or  "  self- 
consciousness,"  and  sometimes  the  word  ••  luiuci  "  itieli,  be  substituted 
for  "  memory."  —  ED. 


or  by  memory?  251 


I  enter  there,  I  require  what  I  will  to  be  brought 
forth,  and  something  instantly  comes ;  others  must 
be  longer  sought  after,  which  are  fetched,  as  it  were, 
out  of  some  inner  receptacle ;  others  rush  out  in 
troops,  and  while  one  thing  is  desired  and  required, 
they  start  forth,  as  who  should  say,  "Is  it  perchance 
I  ?"  These  I  drive  away  with  the  hand  of  my  heart, 
from  the  face  of  my  remembrance  ;  until  what  I  wish 
for  be  unveiled,  and  appear  in  sight,  out  of  its  secret 
place.  Other  things  come  up  readily,  in  unbroken 
order,  as  they  are  called  for ;  those  in  front  making 
way  for  the  following ;  and  as  they  make  way,  they 
are  hidden  from  sight,  ready  to  come,  when  I  will. 
All  which  takes  place  when  I  relate  a  thing  memor- 
iter. 

13.  And  all  things  are  preserved  distinctly  and 
under  general  heads,  each  having  entered  by  its  own 
avenue  :  as  light,  and  all  colors  and  forms  of  bodies, 
by  the  eyes ;  by  the  ears,  all  sorts  of  sounds ;  all 
smells,  by  the  avenue  of  the  nostrils ;  all  tastes,  by 
the  mouth  ;  and  by  the  sensation  of  the  whole  body, 
what  is  hard  or  soft,  hot  or  cold,  smooth  or  rugged, 
heavy  or  light,  either  outwardly  or  inwardly  to  the 
body.  All  these  doth  that  great  harbor  of  the  mem- 
ory receive  in  her  numberless  secret  and  inexpres- 
sible windings,  to  be  forthcoming,  and  brought  out  at 
need ;  each  entering  in  by  his  own  gate,  and  there 
laid  up.  Nor  yet  do  the  things  themselves  enter  in  ; 
only  the  images  of  the  things  perceived  are  there  in 
readiness,  for  thought  to  recall.  But  how  these  im- 
ages are  formed,  who  can  tell,  though  it  doth  plainly 


252  Notices  the  wonderful 

appear  by  which  sense  each  hath  been  brought  in 
and  stored  up  ?  For  even  while  I  dwell  in  darkness 
and  silence,  in  my  memory  I  can  produce  colors,  if  I 
will,  and  discern  betwixt  black  and  white,  and  what 
others  I  will :  nor  do  sounds  break  in,  and  disturb 
the  image  drawn  in  by  my 'eyes,  which  I  am  review- 
ing, though  they  also  are  there,  lying  dormant,  and 
laid  up,  as  it  were,  apart.  For  these  too  I  call  for, 
and  forthwith  they  appear.  And  though  my  tongue 
be  still,  and  my  throat  mute,  I  can  sing  as  much  as  I 
will ;  nor  do  those  images  of  colors,  which  notwith- 
standing be  there,  intrude  themselves  and  interrupt, 
when  another  store  is  called  for,  which  flowed  in  by 
the  ears.  So  the  other  things,  piled  in  and  up  by  the 
other  senses,  I  recall  at  my  pleasure.  Yea,  I  discrim- 
inate the  breath  of  lilies  from  violets,  though  smell- 
ing nothing ;  and  I  prefer  honey  to  sweet  wine, 
smooth  before  rugged,  at  the  time  neither  tasting, 
nor  handling,  but  remembering  only. 

14.  These  things  do  I  within,  in  that  vast  court 
of  my  memory.  For  there,  are  present  with  me, 
heaven,  earth,  sea,  and  whatever  I  could  think  on 
therein,  besides  what  I  have  forgotten.  There,  also, 
meet  I  with  myself,  and  recall  myself,  and  when, 
where,  and  what  I  have  done,  and  under  what  feel- 
ings. There,  is  all  which  I  remember,  either  on  my 
own  experience,  or  others'  testimony.  Out  of  the 
same  store  do  I  myself  continually  combine  with  the 
past  fresh  likenesses  of  things,  which  I  have  expe- 
rienced, have  believed :  and  thence  again  infer  fu- 
ture actions,  events  and  hopes,  and  all  these  again  I 


power  of  memory.  253 

reflect  on,  as  present.  "I  will  do  this  or  that,"  say  I 
to  myself,  in  that  great  receptacle  of  my  mind,  stored 
with  the  images  of  things  so  many  and  so  great, 
"  and  this  or  that  will  follow."  "  Oh  that  this  or  that 
might  be !"  "  God  avert  this  or  that ! "  So  speak  I 
to  myself:  and  when  I  speak,  the  images  of  all  I 
speak  of  are  present,  out  of  the  same  treasury  of 
memory ;  nor  would  I  speak  of  any  thereof,  were  the 
images  wanting. 

15.  Great  is  this  force  of  memory,  excessive  great, 

0  my  God  !    a  large  and  boundless  chamber !    who 
ever  sounded   the   bottom   thereof?    yet   is  this   a 
power  of  mine,  and  belongs  unto  my  nature  ;  nor  do 

1  myself  comprehend  all  that  I  am.     Therefore  is 
the  mind  too  strait  to  contain  itself.     And  where 
should  that  be,  which  it  containeth  not  of  itself?     Is 
it  without  it,  and  not  within  ?  how  then  doth  it  not 
comprehend   itself?     A   wonderful   admiration   sur- 
prises me,  amazement   seizes   me   upon   this.    And 
men  go  abroad  to  admire  the  heights  of  mountains, 
the  mighty  billows  of  the  sea,  the  broad  tides  of 
rivers,  the  compass  of  the  ocean,  and  the  circuits  of 
the  stars,  and  pass  themselves  by ;  nor  wonder,  that 
when  I  spaKe  of  all  these  things,  I  did  not  see  them 
with  mine  eyes,  yet  could  not  have  spoken  of  them, 
xinless  I  then  actually  saw  the  mountains,  billows, 
rivers,  stars,  which  I  had  seen,  and  that  ocean  which 
I  believe  to  be,  inwardly  in  my  memory,  and  that,  too, 
with  the  same  vast  spaces  between,  as  if  I  saw  them 
abroad.     Yet  did  not  I  by  seeing  draw  them  into 
myself,  when  with  mine  eyes  I  actually  beheld  them ; 


254  How  it  conceives  some  things 

nor  are  they  themselves  with  me,  but  their  images 
only.  And  I  know  by  what  sense  of  the  body  each 
was  impressed  upon  me. 

IX.  16.  Yet  not  these  alone  does  the  unmeasur- 
able  capacity  of  my  memory  retain.  Here,  also,  are 
all  those  things  that  have  been  learnt  from  the 
liberal  sciences,  and  have  not  yet  fallen  out  of  the 
mind ;  removed  as  it  were  to  some  inner  place, 
which  is  yet  no  place :  nor  are  they  the  images 
thereof,  but  the  very  things  themselves.  For,  what 
literature  is,  what  the  art  of  disputing,  how  many 
kinds  of  logical  questions  there  be,  —  whatsoever  of 
these  things  I  know,  does  not  exist  in  my  memory,  in 
such  manner  as  that  I  have  taken  in  the  image  and 
left  out  the  thing,  or  that  it  should  have  sounded 
and  passed  away  like  a  voice  fixed  on  the  ear  by  that 
impress  whereby  it  might  be  recalled,  as  if  it  sounded, 
when  it  no  longer  sounded ;  or  as  a  smell  while  it 
passes  and  evaporates  into  air  affects  the  sense  of 
smell,  whence  it  conveys  into  the  memoiy  an  image 
of  itself,  which  remembering,  we  renew ;  or  as  meat, 
which  verily  in  the  belly  hath  now  no  taste,  and  yet 
in  the  memory  still  in  a  manner  tasteth ;  or  as  any- 
thing which  the  body  by  touch  perceiveth,  and 
which  when  removed  from  us,  the  memory  still  con- 
ceives. For  such  things  as  these  latter  are  not 
themselves  transmitted  into  the  memory,  but  their 
images  only  are  with  an  admirable  swiftness  caught 
up,  and  stored  as  it  were  in  wondrous  cabinets,  and 
thence  wonderfully  by  the  act  of  remembering, 
brought  forth. 


without  the  aid  of  the  senses.  255 

X.  17.  But  now  when  I  hear  that  there  be  three 
kinds  of  questions :  "  Whether  the  thing  be  ?  what 
it  is?  of  what  kind  it  is?"  I  do  indeed  hold  the 
images  of  the  sounds  of  which  those  words  be  com- 
posed, and  know  that  those  sounds  passed  with  a 
noise  through  the  air,  and  now  are  not.  But  the 
things  themselves  which  are  signified  by  those  sounds, 
I  never  reached  with  any  sense  of  my  body,  nor 
ever  discerned  them  otherwise  than  in  my  mind; 
yet  in  my  memory  have  I  laid  up  not  their  images, 
but  themselves.  Which  how  they  entered  into  me, 
let  them  say  if  they  can ;  for  I  have  gone  over  all 
the  avenues  of  my  flesh,  but  cannot  find  any  by 
which  they  entered.  For  the  eyes  say,  "If  those 
images  were  colored,  we  reported  of  them."  The 
ears  say,  "If  they  sound,  we  gave  knowledge  of 
them."  The  nostrils  say,  "  If  they  smell,  they  passed 
by  us."  The  taste  says,  "  Unless  they  have  a  savor, 
ask  me  not."  The  touch  says,  "  If  it  have  not  size,  I 
handled  it  not ;  if  I  handled  it  not,  I  gave  no  notice 
of  it."  Whence  and  how  entered  these  things  into 
my  memory  ?  I  know  not  how.  For  when  I  learned 
them,  I  gave  not  credit  to  another  man's  mind,  but 
recognized  them  in  mine ;  and  approving  them  for 
true,  I  commended  them  to  it,  laying  them  up  as  it 
were,  whence  I  might  bring  them  forth  when  I 
willed.  In  my  heart  then  they  were,  even  before  I 
learned  them,  but  in  my  memory  they  were  not. 
Where  then  ?  or  wherefore,  when  they  were  spoken, 
did  I  acknowledge  them,  and  said,  "  So  is  it,  it  is 
true,"  unless  that  they  were  already  in  the  memory, 


2.36  How  it  conceives  some  things 

but  so  thrown  back  and  buried  as  it  were  in  deeper 
recesses,  that  had  not  the  suggestion  of  another 
drawn  ^them  forth,  I  had  perchance  been  unable  to 
conceive  of  them  ? 

XI.  18.  Wherefore  we  find,  that  to  learn  these 
things  whereof  we  imbibe  not  the  images  by  our 
senses,  but  perceive  them  within  by  themselves,  as 
they  are,  without  images,  is  nothing  else  but  by  reflec- 
tion to  bring  together  those  things  which  the  mem- 
ory did  before  contain  at  random  and  unarranged, 
and,  by  marking,  to  take  care  that  they  be  laid  up  at 
hand  as  it  were  in  that  same  memory,  where  before 
they  lay  unknown,  scattered  and  neglected,  and  so 
readily  occur  to  the  mind,  familiarized  to  them. 
And  how  many  things  of  this  kind  does  my  memory 
carry  which  have  been  already  found  out,  and,  as  I 
said,  placed  as  it  were  at  hand,  which  we  are  said  to 
have  learned  and  come  to  know ;  which  were  I  for 
some  short  space  of  time  to  cease  to  call  to  mind, 
they  are  again  so  buried,  and  glide  back,  as  it  were, 
into  the  deeper  recesses,  that  they  must  again,  as  if 
new,  be  thought  out  thence,  for  other  abode  they 
have  none :  but  they  must  be  drawn  together  again, 
that  they  may  be  known  ;  that  is  to  say,  they  must 
as  it  were  be  collected  together  from  their  dis- 
persion :  whence  the  word  "  cogitation "  is  derived. 
For  cogo  (collect)  and  cogito  (re-collect)  have  the 
same  relation  to  each  other  as  ago  and  agito,  facio 
andfactito.  But  the  mind  hath  appropriated  to  it- 
self this  word  (cogitation),  so  that,  not  what  is  "  col- 
lected" anyhow,  but  what  is  "re-collected," — i.  en 


without  the  aid  of  tJie  senses. 


brought  together,  in  the  mind,  —  is  properly  said  to 
be  cogitated,  or  thought  upon. 

XII.  19.  The  memory  containeth,  also,  innumer- 
able reasons  and  laws  of  numbers  and  dimensions, 
none  of  which  hath  any  bodily  sense  impressed  ;  see- 
ing they  have  neither  color,  nor  sound,  nor  taste,  nor 
smell,  nor  touch.     I   have  heard  the  sound  of  the 
words  whereby  when  discussed  they  are   denoted  : 
but  the  sounds  are  other  than  the  things.     For  the 
sounds  are  other  in  Greek  than  in  Latin  :   but  the 
tilings  are  neither  Greek,  nor  Latin,  nor  any  other 
language.     I  have  seen  the  lines  of  architects,  the 
very  finest,  like  a  spider's  thread  ;  but  those  reasons 
and  laws,  above  mentioned,  are  still  different  ;  they  are 
not  the  images  of  those  lines  which  the  eye  of  flesh 
showed  me  :   he  knoweth  them,  whosoever  without 
any   conception   whatsoever   of  a   body,   recognizes 
them  within  himself.     I  have  perceived  also  the  num- 
bers with  which  we  number  all   the  senses  of  my 
body;   but   those   invisible   numbers   wherewith   we 
number,  are  different  from  the  visible  things  num- 
bered ;  nor  are  they  the  images  of  these,  and  there- 
fore they  absolutely  are.     Let  him  who  seeth  them 
not,  deride  me  for  saying  these  things,  and  I  will  pity 
him,  while  he  derides  me. 

XIII.  20.   All  these  things  I  remember,  and  how  I 
learnt   them  I   remember.     Many  things   also   most 
falsely  objected  against  them  have  I  heard,  and  re- 
member ;    which  though  they  be  false,  yet  is  it  not 
false  that  I  remember  them  ;   and  I  remember  also 
that  I  have  discerned  betwixt  those  truths  and  these 


258  H&ic  it  represents 

falsehoods  objected  to  them.  And  I  perceive  that 
the  present  discerning  of  these  things  is  different 
from  remembering  that  I  oftentimes  discerned  them, 
when  I  often  thought  upon  them.  I  remember 
then  to  have  often  understood  these  things^;  and 
what  I  now  discern  and  understand,  I  lay  up  in  my 
memory,  that  hereafter  I  may  remember  that  I  un- 
derstood it  now.  So  then  I  remember  also  to  have 
remembered ;  as,  if  hereafter  I  shall  call  to  remem- 
brance that  I  have  now  been  able  to  remember  these 
things,  by  the  force  of  memory  shall  I  call  it  to  re- 
membrance. 

XIV.  21.  The  same  memory  contains  also  the  af- 
fections of  my  mind,  not  in  the  same  manner  that  my 
mind  itself  contains  them,  when  it  feels  them ;  bnt 
far  otherwise,  according  to  a  power  of  its  own.  For 
without  rejoicing  I  remember  myself  to  have  joyed ; 
and  without  sorrow  do  I  recollect  my  past  sorrow. 
And  that  I  once  feared,  I  review  without  fear ;  and 
without  desire  call  to  mind  a  past  desire.  Some- 
times, on  the  contrary,  with  joy  do  I  remember  my 
fore-past  sorrow,  and  with  sorrow,  joy.  Which  is  not 
wonderful,  as  to  the  body  ;  for  mind  is  one  thing, 
body  another.  If  I  therefore  with  joy  remember 
some  past  pain  of  the  body,  it  is  not  so  wonderful. 
But  now  seeing  this  very  memory  itself  is  mind  (for 
when  we  give  a  thing  in  charge,  to  be  kept  in  mem- 
ory, we  say,  "See  that  you  keep  it  in  mind;"  and 
when  we  forget,  we  say,  "It  did  not  come  to  my 
mind,"  and,  "  It  slipped  out  of  my  mind,"  calling  the 
memory  itself  the  mind);  —  this  being  so,  how  is  it, 


abstract  truths,  and  feelings.  259 

that  when  with  joy  I  remember  my  past  sorrow,  the 
mind  hath  joy,  the  memory  hath  sorrow ;  the  mind 
upon  the  joyfulness  which  is  in  it,  is  joyful,  yet  the 
memory  upon  the  sadness  which  is  in  it,  is  not  sad  ? 
Does  the  memory  perchance  not  belong  to  the  mind  ? 
Who  will  say  so  ?  The  memory  then  is,  as  it  were, 
the  belly  of  the  mind,  and  joy  and  sadness,  like  sweet 
and  bitter  food  ;  which,  when  committed  to  the  mem- 
ory, are,  as  it  were,  passed  into  the  belly,  where  they 
may  be  stowed,  but  cannot  taste.  Ridiculous  it  is  to 
imagine  these  to  be  alike ;  and  yet  are  they  not  ut- 
terly unlike. 

22.  But,  behold,  out  of  my  memory  I  bring  it, 
when  I  say  there  be  four  perturbations  of  the  mind  : 
desire,  joy,  fear,  sorrow ;  and  whatsoever  I  can  dis- 
pute thereon,  by  dividing  each  into  its  subordinate 
species,  and  by  defining  it,  in  my  memory  find  I  what 
to  say,  and  thence  do  I  bring  it :  yet  am  I  not  dis- 
turbed by  any  of  these  perturbations,  when  by  call*- 
ing  them  to  mind,  I  remember  them ;  yea,  and  be- 
fore I  recalled  and  brought  them  back,  they  were 
there ;  and  therefore  could  they,  by  recollection, 
thence  be  brought.  Perchance,  then,  as  meat  is  by 
chewing  the  cud  brought  up  out  of  the  belly,  so  by 
recollection,  these  out  of  the  memory.  Why  then 
does  not  the  disputer,  thus  recollecting,  taste  in  the 
mouth  of  his  musing  the  sweetness  of  joy,  or  the  bit- 
terness of  sorrow  ?  Is  the  comparison  unlike  in  this 
respect,  because  not  in  all  respects  like  ?  For  who 
would  willingly  speak  thereof,  if,  so  oft  as  we  name 
grief  or  fear,  we  should  be  compelled  to  be  sad  or 


260         Sometimes  memory  recalls  the  thin  fa 

•  fearful  ?  And  yet  could  we  not  speak  of  them,  did 
we  not  find  in  our  memory,  not  only  the  sounds  of 
the  names  according  to  the  images  impressed  by  the 
senses  of  the  body,  but  notions  of  the  very  things 
themselves  which  we  never  received  by  any  avenue 
of  the  body,  but  which  the  mind  itself  perceiving  by 
the  experience  of  its  own  passions,  committed  to  the 
memory,  or  the  memory  of  itself  retained,  without 
being  committed  unto  it. 

XV.  23.  But  whether  by  images  or  no,  who  can 
readily  say  ?  Thus,  I  name  a  stone,  I  name  the  sun, 
the  things  themselves  not  being  present  to  my  senses, 
but  their  images  to  my  memory.  I  name  a  bodily 
pain,  yet  it  is  not  present  with  me,  when  nothing 
aches  :  yet  unless  its  image  were  present  in  my  mem- 
ory, I  should  not  know  what  to  say  thereof,  nor  in  dis- 
coursing discern  pain  from  pleasure.  I  name  bodily 
health  ;  being  sound  in  body,  the  thing  itself  is  pres- 
ent with  me ;  yet,  unless  its  image  also  were  present 
in  my  memory,  I  could  by  no  means  recall  what  the 
sound  of  this  name  should  signify.  Nor  would  the 
sick,  when  health  were  named,  recognize  what  were 
spoken,  tinless  the  same  image  were  by- the  force  of 
memory  retained,  although  the  thing  itself  were  ab- 
sent from  the  body.  I  name  numbers  whereby  we 
number ;  and  not  their  images,  but  themselves  are 
present  in  ray  memory.  I  name  the  image. of  the 
sun,  and  that  image  is  present  in  my  memory.  For  I 
recall  not  the  image  of  its  image,  but  the  image  itself 
is  present  to  me,  calling  it  to  mind.  I  name  memory, 
and  I  recognize  what  I  name.  And  where  do  I  reo- 


sometimes  tfie  image  of  it.  261 

ognize  it,  but  in  the  memory  itself?  Is  it  also  pres- 
ent to  itself  by  its  image,  and  not  by  itself? 

XVI.  24.  How  is  it,  when  I  name  forgetfulness, 
and  withal  recognize  what  I  name  ?  whence  should  I 
recognize  it,  did  I  not  remember  it  ?  I  speak  not  of 
the  sound  of  the  name,  but  of  the  tiling  which  it  sig- 
nifies :  which  if  I  had  forgotten,  I  could  not  recognize 
what  that  sound  signifies.  When  then  I  remember 
memory,  memory  itself  is,  through  itself,  present 
with  itself:  but  when  I  remember  forgetfulness,  there 
are  present  both  rcemory  and  forgetfulness ;  memory 
whereby  I  remember,  forgetfulness  which  I  remem- 
ber. But  what  is  forgetfulness,  but  the  privation  of 
memory  ?  How  then  is  it  present  that  I  remember 
it,  since  when  present  I  cannot  remember  ?  But  if 
what  we  remember  we  hold  it  in  memory,  yet,  unless 
we  did  remember  forgetfulness,  we  could  never,  at 
the  hearing  of  the  name,  recognize  the  thing  thereby 
signified,  then  forgetfulness  is  retained  by  memory. 
Present  then  it  is,  that  we  forget  not,  and  being  so, 
we  forget.  It  is  to  be  understood  from  this,  that  for- 
getfulness, when  we  remember  it,  is  not  present  to 
the  memory  by  itself,  but  by  its  image :  because  if  it 
were  present  by  itself,  it  would  not  cause  us  to  re- 
member, but  to  forget.  Who  now  shall  search  out 
this  ?  who  shall  comprehend  how  it  is  ? 

25  Lord,  I,  truly,  toil  therein,  yea  and  toil  in  my- 
self; I  am  become  a  heavy  soil  requiring  over-much 
sweat  of  the  brow.  For  we  are  not  now  searching 
out  the  regions  of  heaven,  or  measuring  the  distances 
of  the  stars,  or  inquiring  the  balancings  of  the  earth. 


2G2     If  the  knowledge  of  ourselves  be  so  difficult, 

It  is  I  myself  who  remember ;  I,  the  mind.  It  is  not 
so  wonderful,  if  what  I  myself  am  not,  be  far  from 
me.  But  what  is  nearer  to  me  than  myself?  And 
lo !  the  force  of  mine  own  memory  is  not  understood 
by  me ;  though  I  cannot  so  much  as  name  myself 
without  it.  For  what  shall  I  say,  when  it  is  clear  to 
me  that  I  remember  forgetfulness  ?  Shall  I  say  that 
that  is  not  in  my  memory,  which  I  remember  ?  or 
shall  I  say  that  forgetfulness  is  for  this  purpose  in  my 
memory,  that  I  might  not  forget  ?  Both  were  most 
absurd.  What  third  way  is  there  ?  How  can  I  say 
that  the  image  of  forgetfulness  is  retained  by  my 
memory,  not  forgetfulness  itself,  when  I  remember 
it  ?  How  could  I  say  this  either,  seeing  that  when 
the  image  of  anything  is  impressed  on  the  memory, 
the  thing  itself  must  needs  be  first  present,  whence 
that  image  may  be  impressed  ?  For  thus  do  I  re- 
member Carthage,  thus  all  places  where  I  have  been, 
thus  men's  faces  whom  I  have  seen,  and  things  re- 
ported by  the  other  senses  ;  thus  the  health. or  sick- 
ness of  the  body.  For  when  these  things  were  pres- 
ent, my  memory  received  from  them  images,  which, 
being  present  with  me,  I  might  look  on  and  bring 
back  in  my  mind,  when  I  remembered  them  in  their 
absence.  If,  then,  this  forgetfulness  is  retained  in  the 
memory  through  its  image,  not  through  itself,  then 
plainly  itself  was  once  present,  that  its  image  might 
be  taken.  But  when  it  was  present,  how  did  it  write 
its  image  in  the  memory,  seeing  that  forgetfulness  by 
its  presence  effaces  even  what  it  finds  already  noted  ? 
And  yet,  in  whatever  way,  although  that  way  be  past 


much  more  the  knowledge  of  God.  263 

conceiving  and  explaining,  yet  certain  am  I  that  I 
remember  forgetfulness  itself  also,  whereby  what  we 
remember  is  effaced. 

XVII.  26.  Great  is  the  power  of  memory,  a  fear- 
ful thing,  O  my  God,  a  deep  and  boundless  manifold- 
ness  ;  and  this  thing  is  the  mind,  and  this  am  I  my- 
self. What  am  I  then,  O  my  God  ?  What  nature 
am  I  ?  A  life  various  and  manifold,  and  exceeding 
immense.  Behold  in  the  plains,  and  caves,  and  cav- 
erns of  my  memory,  innumerable  and  innumerably 
full  of  innumerable  kinds  of  things,  either  through 
images,  as  all  bodies ;  or  by  actual  presence,  as  the 
arts ;  or  by  certain  notions  or  impressions,  as  the  af- 
fections of  the  mind,  which,  even  when  the  mind 
doth  not  feel,  the  memory  retaineth,  while  yet  what- 
soever is  in  the  memory,  is  also  in  the  mind,  —  over 
all  these  do  I  run,  I  fly ;  I  dive  on  this  side  and  on 
that,  as  far  as  I  can,  and  there  is  no  end.  So  great  is 
the  force  of  memory,  so  great  the  force  of  life,  even 
in  the  mortal  life  of  man.  What  shall  I  do  then,  O 
Thou  my  true  life,  my  God  ?  I  will  pass  even  beyond 
this  power  of  mine  which  is  called  memory :  yea,  I 
will  pass  beyond  it,  that  I  may  approach  unto  Thee, 
O  sweet  Light.  What  sayest  Thou  to  me  ?  See,  I 
am  mounting  up  through  my  mind  towards  Thee  who 
abidest  above  me.  Yea,  I  now  will  pass  beyond  this 
power  of  mine  which  is  called  memory,  desirous  to 
arrive  at  Thee,  by  Whom  Thou  mayest  be  arrived 
at ;  and  to  cleave  unto  Thee,  by  Whom  one  may 
cleave  unto  Thee.  For  even  beasts  and  birds  have 
memory,  else  could  they  not  return  to  their  dens  and 


264  Memory  reaches  not  to  God. 

nests,  nor  many  other  things  they  are  used  unto  ;  nor 
indeed  could  they  be  used  to  anything,  but  by  mem- 
ory. I  will  pass  then  beyond  memory  also,  that  I 
may  arrive  at  Him  who  hath  separated  me  from  tho 
four-footed  beasts,  and  made  me  wiser  than  the  fowls 
of  the  air  ;  I  will  pass  beyond  memory  also,  and  where 
shall  I  find  Thee,  Thou  truly  good  and  certain  sweet- 
ness ?  And  where  shall  I  find  .Thee  ?  If  I  find  Thee 
without  my  memory,  then  do  I  not  retain  Thee  within 
my  memory.  And  how  shall  I  find  Thee,  if  I  remem- 
ber Thee  not  ? 

XVIII.  27.  For  the  woman  that  had  lost  her 
groat,  and  sought  it  with  a  light,  unless  she  had  re- 
membered it,  she  had  never  found  it.1  For  when  it 
was  found,  whence  should  she  know  whether  it  were 
the  same,  unless  she  remembered  it  ?  I  remember  to 
have  sought  and  found  many  a  thing ;  and  this  I 
thereby  kno'w,  that  when  I  was  seeking  any  of  them, 
and  was  asked,  "Is  this  it?"  "Is  that  it?"  so  long 

*  o 

said  I  "No,"  until  that  were  offered  me  which  I 
sought.  But  had  I  not  remembered  it  (whatever  it 
were),  though  it  were  offered  me,  yet  should  I  not 
find  it,  because  I  could  not  recognize  it.  And  so  it 
ever  is,  when  \ve  seek  and  find  any  lost  thing.  Not- 
withstanding, when  anything  is  by  chance  lost  from 
the  sight,  not  from  the  memory  (as  any  visible  body), 
yet  its  image  is  still  retained  within,  and  it  is  sought 
until  it  be  restored  to  sight ;  and  when  it  is  found,  it 
is  recognized  by  the  image  which  is  within  ;  nor  do 
we  say  that  we  have  found  what  was  lost,  unless  we 

l  Luke  xv.  8. 


Memory  reaches  not  to  God.  265 

recognize  it ;  nor  can  we  recognize  it,  unless  we  re- 
member it.  It  was  lost  to  the  eyes,  but  retained  in 
the  memory. 

XIX.  28.  But  how  is  it  when  the  memory  itself 
loses  anything,  as  happens  when  we  forget,  and  seek 
that  we  may  recollect  ?  "Where  in  the  end  do  we 
search,  but  in  the  very  memory  itself?  and  there,  if 
one  thing  be  perchance  offered  instead  of  another,  we 
reject  it,  until  what  we  seek  meets  us  ;  and  when  it 
doth,  we  say, "  This  is  it ;  "  which  we  should  not,  un- 
less we  recognized  it,  nor  recognize  it  unless  we  re- 
membered it.  Certainly  then  we  had  forgotten  it. 
Or,  had  not  the  whole  escaped  us,  but  by  the  part 
whereof  we  had  hold,  was  the  lost  part  sought  for ; 
in  that  the  memory  felt  that  it  did  not  carry  on  to- 
gether all  which  it  was  wont,  and  limping,  as  it  were, 
from  the  curtailment  of  its  ancient  habit,  demanded 
the  restoration  of  what  it  had  missed?  For  instance, 
if  we  see  or  think  of  some  one  known  to  us,  and  hav- 
ing forgotten  his  name,  try  to  recover  it,  every  thing 
that  does  not  connect  itself  therewith,  because  it  was 
not  wont  to  be  thought  upon  together  with  him,  is 
rejected,  until  that  presents  itself,  whereon  the  knowl- 
edge reposes  equably  as  its  wonted  object.  And 
whence  does  this  present  itself  but  out  of  the  mem- 
ory itself?  for  even  when  we  recognize  it,  on  being 
reminded  by  another,  it  is  thence  it  comes.  For  we 
do  not  believe  it  as  something  new,  but,  upon  recollec- 
tion, allow  that  what  was  mentioned  is  the  right  thing. 
But  were  it  utterly  blotted  out  of  the  mind,  we  should 
not  remember  it,  even  when  reminded.  For  we  have 


266  Some  things  perceived  by  the  mind, 

not  as  yet  utterly  forgotten  that  which  we  remember 
ourselves  to  have  forgotten.  What,  then,  we  have 
utterly  forgotten  and  lost,  we  cannot  even  seek  after. 
XX.  29.  How  then  do  I  seek  Thee,  O  Lord  ? 
For  when  I  seek  Thee,  my  God,  I  seek  a  happy  life. 
I  will  seek  Thee,  that  my  soul  may  live.  For  my 
body  liveth  by  my  soul ;  and  my  soul  by  Thee.  How 
then  do  I  seek  a  happy  life,  seeing  I  have  it  not,  until 
I  can  actually  say  [in  heaven],  where  I  ought  to  say 
it,  "  It  is  enough  ?  "  How  seek  I  it  ?  By  remem- 
brance, as  though  I  had  forgotten  it,  remembering 
that  I  had  forgotten  it  ?  Or,  desiring  to  learn  it  as 
a  thing  unknown,  either  never  having  known,  or  so 
forgotten  it  as  not  even  to  remember  that  I  had  for- 
gotten it  ?  Is  not  a  happy  life  what  all  will,  and  no 
one  altogether  wills  it  not  ?  Where  have  they  known 
it,  that  they  so  will  it  ?  where  seen  it,  that  they  so 
love  it  ?  Truly  we  have  it,  how,  I  know  not.  Yea, 
there  is  another  way,  wherein  when  one  hath  it,  then 
is  he  happy ;  and  there  are,  who  are  blessed  in  hope. 
These  have  it  in  a  lower  kind,  than  they  who  have  it 
in  very  deed ;  yet  are  they  better  off  than  such  as  are 
happy  neither  in  deed,  nor  in  hope.  Yet  even  these 
last,  had  they  it  not  in  some  sort,  would  not  so  will  to 
be  happy,  which  that  they  do  will,  is  most  certain. 
They  have  known  it  then,  I  know  not  how,  and  so 
have  it  by  some  sort  of  knowledge,  what,  I  know  not, 
and  am  perplexed  whether  it  be  in  the  memory,  which 
if  it  be,  then  we  have  been  happy  once  ;  whether  all 
severally,  or  in  that  man  who  first  sinned,  in  whom 


without  any  experience  of  them.  2G7 

also  we  all  died*  and  from  whom  we  are  all  born 
with  misery,  I  now  inquire  not ;  but  only  whether  the 
happy  life  be  in  the  memory.  For  neither  should  we 
love  it  did  we  not  know  it.  We  hear  the  name,  and 
we  all  confess  that  we  desire  the  thing ;  for  we  are 
not  delighted  with  the  mere  sound.  For  when  a 
Greek  hears  it  in  Latin,  he  is  not  delighted,  not  know- 
ing what  is  spoken ;  but  we  Latins  are  delighted,  as 
would  he  too,  if  he  heard  it  in  Greek ;  because  the 
thing  itself  is  neither  Greek  nor  Latin,  which  Greeks 
and  Latins,  and  men  of  all  other  tongues,  long  for  so 
earnestly.  Known  therefore  it  is  to  all,  for  could  they 
with  one  voice  be  asked,  "  would  they  be  happy  ?  " 
they  would  answer  without  doubt,  "  they  would." 
And  this  could  not  be,  unless  the  thing  itself,  whereof 
it  is  the  name,  were  retained  in  their  memory. 

XXI.  30.  But  is  it  so,  as  one  remembers  Carthage 
who  hath  seen  it  ?  No.  For  a  happy  life  is  not  seen 
with  the  eye,  because  it  hath  not  a  body.  As  we  re- 
member numbers,  then  ?  No.  For  these  he  that  hath 
in  his  knowledge,  seeks  not  further  to  attain  unto  ;  but 
a  happy  life  we  have  in  our  knowledge,  and  therefore 
love  it,  and  still  desire  to  attain  it,  that  we  may  be 
happy.  As  we  remember  eloquence,  then?  No. 
For  although  upon  hearing  this  name  also,  some  call 
to  mind  the  thing,  who  yet  are  not  eloquent,  and 
many  who  desire  to  be  so,  whence  it  appears  that  it  is 
in  their  knowledge  ;  yet  these  have  by  their  bodily 
senses  observed  others  to  be  eloquent,  and  been  de- 
lighted, and  desired  to  be  the  like  (though  indeed 

1 1  Cor.  xv.  22. 


2G8  All  Ion g  for  happiness^ 

they  would  not  be  delighted  but  for  some  inward 
knowledge  thereof,  nor  wish  to  be  the  like,  unless  they 
•were  thus  delighted) ;  whereas  a  happy  life,  we  do  by 
no  bodily  sense  experience  in  others.  As  then  we  re- 
member joy  ?  Perchance  ;  for,  my  joy  I  remember, 
even  when  sad,  as  a  happy  life,  when  unhappy  ;  nor 
did  I  ever  with  bodily  sense  see,  hear,  smell,  taste,  or 
touch  my  joy ;  but  I  experienced  it  in  my  mind, 
when  I  rejoiced;  and  the  knowledge  of  it  clave  to  my 
memory,  so  that  I  can  recall  it  with  disgust  sometimes, 
at  others  with  longing,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
things,  wherein  I  remember  myself  to  have  joyed. 
For  even  from  foul  things  have  I  been  immersed  in  a 
sort  of  joy  ;  which  now  recalling,  I  detest  and  exe- 
crate; otherwhiles  from  good  and  honest  things, 
which  I  now  recall  with  longing,  although  perchance 
no  longer  present ;  and  therefore  with  sadness  I  recall 
former  joy. 

81.  Where  then  and  when  did  I  experience  my 
happy  life,  that  I  should  remember,  and  love  and  long 
for  it  ?  Nor  is  it  I  alone,  or  some  few  besides,  but  we 
all  would  fain  be  happy ;  which,  unless  by  some  cer- 
tain knowledge  we  knew,  we  should  not  with  so  cer- 
tain a  will  desire.  But  how  is  this,  that  if  two  men 
be  asked  whether  they  would  go  to  the  wars,  one,  per- 
chance would  answer  that  he  would,  the  other,  that 
he  would  not ;  but  if  they  were  asked  whether  they 
would  be  happy,  both  -would  instantly  without  any 
doubting  say  they  would ;  and  for  no  other  reason 
would  the  one  go  to  the  wars,  and  the  other  not,  but 
to  be  happy.  Is  it  perchance,  that  as  one  looks  for  his 


thouyh  all  do  not  knmc  what  happiness  is.     2  GO 

joy  in  this  thing,  another  in  that,  all  agree  in  their  de- 
sire of  being  happy,  as  they  would  agree,  if  they  were 
asked,  that  they  wished  to  have  joy,  and  this  joy  they 
call  a  happy  life  ?  Although,  then,  one  obtains  the 
joy  by  one  means,  another  by  another,  all  have  one 
end,  which  they  strive  to  attain,  namely,  joy.  Which 
being  a  thing  which  all  must  say  they  have  experi- 
enced, it  is  therefore  found  in  the  memory,  and  recog- 
nized whenever  the  name  of  a  happy  life  is  mentioned. 

XXII.  32.  Far  be  it,  Lord,  far  be  it  from  the 
heart  of  Thy  servant  who  here  confesseth  unto  Thee, 
far  be  it,  that,  be  the  joy  what  it  may,  I  should 
therefore  think  myself  happy.  For  there  is  a  joy 
which  is  not  given  to  the  ungodly*  but  to  those  who 
love  Thee  for  Thine  own  sake,  whose  joy  Thou  Thy- 
self art.  And  this  is  the  happy  life,  to  rejoice  to  Thee,** 
of  Thee,  for  Thee  ;  this  is  it,  and  there  is  no  other. 
For  they  who  think  there  is  another,  pursue  some 
other,  and  not  the  true  joy.  Yet  is  not  their  will 
turned  away  from  some  semblance  of  joy. 

XXII.  33.  It  is  not  certain,  then,  that  all  wish  to 
be  happy,  inasmuch  as  they  who  wish  not  to  joy  in 
Thee,  which  is  the  only  happy  life,  do  not  truly  desire 
the  happy  life.  Or  do  all  men  desire  this,  but  because 
the  flesh  lusteth  against  the  Spirit,  and  the  Spirit 
af/ainst  the  flesh,  that  they  cannot  do  what  they 
would?  they  fall  upon  that  which  they  can,  and  are  con- 
tent therewith  ;  because,  what  they  are  not  able  to  do, 
they  do  not  will  so  strongly,  as  would  suffice  to  make 
them  able  ?  For  if  I  ask  any  one  had  he  rather  joy 

1  Isaiah  xlviii.  22.  2  Gal.  v.  17. 

20 


270  God  reveals  Himself  to 

in  truth  or  in  falsehood  ?  he  will  as  little  hesitate  to 
say  "  in  the  truth,"  as  to  say  that,  "he  desires  to  be 
happy,"  for  a  happy  life  is  joy  in  the  truth  :  for  this 
is  a  joying  in  Thee,  Who  art  the  Trutli^  O  God  my 
light,  health  of  my  countenance,  my  God.2  This  is  the 
genuinely  happy  life  which  all  desire  ;  this  life  which 
alone  is  happy,  all  desire ;  to  joy  in  the  truth  all  de- 
sire. I  have  met  with  many  that  would  deceive ;  none 
who  would  be  deceived.  Where,  then,  did  they  know 
this  happy  life,  save  where  they  knew  the  truth  also  ? 
For  they  love  it  since  they  would  not  be  deceived. 
And  when  they  love  a  happy  life,  which  is  no  other 
than  joying  in  the  truth,  then  also  do  they  love  the 
truth  ;  which  yet  they  would  not  love,  were  there  not 
some  notice  of  it  in  their  memory.  Why,  then,  joy 
hey  not  in  ft  ?  why  are  they  not  happy  ?  because 
they  are  more  strongly  taken  up  with  other  things 
which  have  more  power  to  make  them  miserable,  than 
that  which  they  so  faintly  remember  to  make  them 
happy.  For  there  is  yet  a  little  light  in  men  ;  let  them 
walk,  let  them  walk,  that  the  darkness  overtake  them 
not.3 

34.  But  why  doth  "  truth  generate  hatred,"  and  the 
man  of  thine,*  preaching  the  truth,  become  an  enemy 
to  them,  while  yet  a  happy  life  is  loved,  which  is  nothing 
else  but  joying  in  the  truth  ?  Why  is  it,  unless  it  be 
that  truth  is  loved  in  such  a  way,  that  they  who  love 
anything  else,  would  gladly  have  that  which  they  love 
to  be  the  truth ;  and  because  they  do  not  wish  to  be 

1  John  xiv.  6.  3  John  xii.  35. 

2  Ps.  xxvii.  1;  xlii.  11.  *  John  viii.  40. 


those  who  really  seek  Him.  271 

deceived,  would  not  be  convinced  that  they  are  so  ? 
Therefore  do  they  hate  the  truth  for  that  thing's  sake, 
which  they  love  instead  of  the  truth.  They  love  truth 
Avhen  she  enlightens,  they  hate  her  when  she  reproves. 
For  since  they  would  not  be  deceived,  and  would  de- 
ceive, they  love  her  when  she  discovers  herself  unto 
them,  and  hate  her  when  she  discovers  them.  Whence 
she  shall  so  repay  them,  that  they  who  would  not  be 
made  manifest  l  by  her^  she  both  against  their  will 
makes  manifest,  and  herself  becomes  not  manifest 
unto  them. «  Thus,  thus,  yea,  thus,  doth  the  mind  of 
man,  blind  and  sick,  foul  and  ill-favored,  wish  to  be 
hidden,  but  wished  not  that  aught  should  be  hidden 
from  it.  But  the  contrary  is  requited  it,  that  itself 
should  not  be  hidden  from  the  Truth  ;  but  the  Truth 
is  hid  from  it.  Yet  even  thus  miserable,  it  had  rather 
joy  in  truths  than  in  falsehoods.  Happy  then  will  it 
be,  when,  no  distraction  interposing,  it  shall  joy  in 
that  only  Truth,  by  Whom  all  things  are  true. 

XXIV.  35.  See  what  a  space  I  have  gone  over  in 
my  memory  seeking  Thee,  O  Lord,  and  I  have  not 
found  Thee  beyond  or  outside  of  it.  Nor  have  I 
found  anything  concerning  Thee,  but  what  I  have  kept 
in  memory  ever  since  I  learnt  Thee.  For  since  I 
learnt  Thee,  I  have  not  forgotten  Thee.  For  where  I 
found  Truth,  there  found  I  my  God,  the  Truth  Itself ; 
which  since  I  learnt,  I  have  not  forgotten.  Since  then 
I  learned  Thee,  Thou  residest  in  my  memory;  and 
there  do  I  find  Thee,  when  I  call  Thee  to  remembrance, 
and  delight  in  Thee.  These  be  my  holy  delights, 

l  Eph.  v.  18. 


272  God  reveals  Himself  to 

which  Thou  hast  given  me  in  Thy  mercy,  having  re- 
gard to  my  poverty. 

XXV.  36.    But   where    in    my   memory  residest 
Thou,    O   Lord,  where   residest  Thou  there?    what 
manner  of  lodging  hast  Thou  framed  for  Thee  ?  what 
manner  of  sanctuary  hast  Thou  builded  for  Thee  ? 
Thou  hast  given  this  honor  to  my  memory,  to  reside 
in  it ;  but  in  what  quarter  of  it  Thou  residest,  that  I 
am  considering.     For  in  thinking  on  Thee,  I  passed 
beyond  such  parts  of  it  as  the  beasts  also  have,  for  I 
found  Thee  not  there  among  the  images  of  corporeal 
things  :  and  I  came  to  those  parts  to  which  I  commit- 
ted the  affections  of  my  mind,  nor  found  Thee  there. 
And  I  entered  into  the  very  seat  of  my  mind  (which  it- 
hath  in  my  memory,  inasmuch  as  the  mind  remembers 
itself  also),  neither  wert  thou  there  :  for  as  Thou  art 
not  a  corporeal  image,  nor  the  affection  of  a  living  be- 
ing (as  when  we  rejoice,  condole,  desire,  fear,  remem- 
ber, forget,  or  the  like),  so  neither  art  Thou  the  mind 
itself;  because  Thou  art  the  Lord  God  of  the  mind; 
and   all  these  are  changed,  but  Thou  remainest  un. 
changeable  over  all,  and  yet  hast  vouchsafed  to  dwell 
in  my  memory,  since  I  learnt  Thee.     And  why  seek  I 
now,  in  what  place  thereof  Thou  dwellest,  as  if  there 
were  places  therein  ?    Sure  I  am  that  in  it  Thou  dwell- 
est, since  I  have  remembered  Thee,  ever  since  I  learnt 
Thee,  and  there  I  find  Thee,  when  I  call  Thee  to  re- 
membrance. 

XXVI.  37.   Where  then  did  I  find  Thee,  that  I 
might  learn  Thee  ?     For  in  my  memory  Thou  wert 
not,  before  I  learned  Thee.     Where  did  I  find  Thee, 


those  who  really  seek  Him.  273 

that  I  might  learn  Thee,  but  in  Thyself  above  me  ? 
Place  there  is  none  ;  we  go  backward  and  forward,1 
and  there  is  no  place.  Everywhere,  O  Truth,  dost 
Thou  give  audience  to  all  who  ask  counsel  of  Thee, 
and  at  once  answerest  all,  though  on  manifold  mat- 
ters they  ask  Thy  counsel.  Clearly  dost  Thou  an- 
swer, though  all  do  not  clearly  hear.  All  consult 
Thee  on  what  they  wish,  though  they  hear  not  al- 
ways what  they  wish.  He  is  Thy  best  servant  who 
looks  not  so  much  to  hear  that  from  Thee  which 
himself  wills,  as  rather  to  will  that  which  from  Thee 
he  hears. 

XXVII.  38.    Too  late  I  loved  Thee,  O  Thou 
Beauty  of  ancient  days,  yet  ever  new !   too  late  I 
loved  Thee !     And  behold,  Thou  wert  within,  and  I 
abroad,  and  there  I  searched  for  Thee ;  deformed  I, 
plunging  amid  those  fair  forms,  which  Thou  hadst 
made.     Thou  wert  with  me,  but  I  was  not  with  Thee. 
Things  held  me  far  from  Thee,  which,  unless  they 
were  in  Thee,  were  not  at  all.     Thou  didst  call,  and 
shout,  and  burst  my  deafness.   Thou  didst  flash,  shine, 
and  scatter  my  blindness.     Thou  didst  breathe  odors, 
and  I  drew  in  breath  and  panted  for  Thee.     I  tasted, 
and  hunger  and  thirst.     Thou  touchedst  me,  and  I 
burned  for  Thy  peace. 

XXVIII.  39.    When  I  shall  with  my  whole  self 
cleave  to  Thee,  I  shall  nowhere  have  sorrow,  or  la- 
bor ;  and  my  life  shall  wholly  live,  as  wholly  full  of 
Thee.     But  now,  since  whom  Thou  fillest  Thou  liftest 
up,  because  I'  atu  not  full  of  Thee  I  am  a  burden  to 

i  Job  xxiii.  8, 9. 


274  Did  not  seek  God  aright. 

myself.  Lamentable  joys  strive  with  joyous  sorrows ; 
and  on  which  side  is  the  victory,  I  know  not.  Woe 
is  me !  Lord,  have  pity  on  me.  My  evil  sorrows 
strive  with  my  good  joys ;  and  on  which  side  is  the 
victory,  I  know  not.  Woe  is  me  !  Lord,  have  pity 
on  me.  Woe  is  me !  lo !  I  hide  not  my  wounds ; 
Thou  art  the  Physician,  I  the  sick  ;  Thou  merciful,  I 
miserable.  Is  not  the  life  of  man  upon  earth  all 
trial?1  Who  wishes  for  troubles  and  difficulties? 
Thou  commandest  them  to  be  endured,  not  to  be 
loved.  No  man  loves  what  he  endures,  though  he 
love  to  endure.  For  though  he  rejoices  that  he  en- 
dures, he  had  rather  there  were  nothing  for  him  to 
endure.  In  adversity,  I  long  for  prosperity ;  in  pros- 
perity, I  fear  adversity.  What  middle  place  is  there 
betwixt  these  two,  where  the  life  of  man  is  not  all 
trial  ?  Woe  to  the  prosperities  of  the  world,  once 
and  again,  through  fear  of  adversity,  and  corruption 
of  joy.  Woe  to  the  adversities  of  the  world,  once 
and  again,  and  the  third  time,  from  the  longing  for 
prosperity,  and  because  adversity  itself  is  a  hard 
thing,  and  lest  it  shatter  endurance.  Is  not  the  life 
of  man  upon  earth  att  trial,  without  any  interval  ? 

XXIX.  40.  And  all  my  hope  is  nowhere  but  in 
Thy  exceeding  great  mercy.  Give  what  Thou  en- 
joinest,  and  enjoin  what  Thou  wilt.  Thou  enjoinest 
us  continency  ;  and  when  I  knew,  saith  one,  that  no 
man  can  be  continent,  unless  God  give  it,  this  also 
wa$  a  part  of  wisdom  to  know  whose  gift  she  is.3 
By  continency,  verily,  are  we  bound  up  and  brought 

l  Job  vii.  1.    Old  Vulg.  2  Wisd.  viii.  21. 


Did  not  seek  God  aright.  275 

back  into  One,  whence  we  were  dissipated  into 
many.  For  too  little  doth  he  love  Thee,  who  loves 
anything  with  Thee,  which  he  loveth  not  for  Thee. 
O  love,  who  ever  burnest  and  never  consumest !  O 
charity,  my  God !  kindle  me.  Thou  enjoinest  conti- 
nency :  give  me  what  Thou  enjoinest,  and  enjoin 
what  Thou  wilt. 

XXX.  41.  Verily  Thou  enjoinest  me  continency 
from  the  -lust  of  t/ie  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and 
t/ie  ambition  of  the  world.1  Thou  enjoinest  conti- 
nency from  concubinage ;  and,  for  wedlock  itself, 
Thou  hast  counselled  something  better  than  what 
Thou  hast  permitted.  And  since  Thou  grantedst  it, 
it  was  done,  even  before  I  became  a  dispenser  of 
Thy  Sacrament.  But  there  yet  live  in  my  memory 
(whereof  I  have  much  spoken)  the  images  of  such 
things  as  my  ill-custom  there  fixed ;  which  haunt 
me,  strengthless  when  I  am  awake  ;  but  in  sleep,  not 
only  so  as  to  give  pleasure,  but  even  to  obtain  assent, 
and  what  is  very  like  reality.  Yea,  so  far  prevails 
the  illusion  of  the  image,  in  my  soul  and  in  my  flesh, 
that,  when  asleep,  false  visions  persuade  to  that 
which,  when  waking,  the  true  cannot.  Am  I  not  then 
myself,  O  Lord  my  God  ?  And  yet  there  is  so  much 
difference  betwixt  myself  and  myself,  within  that 
moment  wherein  I  pass  from  waking  to  sleeping,  or 
return  from  sleeping  to  waking !  Where  is  reason 
then,  which,  awake,  resisteth  such  suggestions  ?  And 
should  the  things  themselves  be  urged  on  it,  it  re- 
maineth  unshaken.  Is  it  clasped  up  with  the  eyes  ? 

1 1  John  ii.  16. 


276  Laments  evil  in  him  still, 

is  it  lulled  asleep  with  the  senses  of  the  body  ?  And 
whence  is  it  that  often  even  in  sleep  we  resist,  and 
mindful  of.  our  purpose,  and  abiding  most  chastely  in 
it,  yield  no  assent  to  such  enticements  ?  And  yet  so 
much  difference  there  is,  that  when  it  happen eth 
otherwise,  upon  waking  we  return  to  peace  of  con- 
science :  and  by  this  very  difference  discover  that  we 
did  not,  what  yet  we  be  sorry  that  in  some  way  was 
done  in  us. 

42.  Art  Thou  not  mighty,  God  Almighty,  to  heal 
all  the  diseases  of  my  soul,1  and  by  Thy  more  abun- 
dant grace  to  quench  even  the  impure  motions  of  my 
sleep  !  Thou  wilt  increase,  Lord,  Thy  gifts  more  and 
more  in  me,  that  my  soul  may  follow  me  to  Thee,  dis- 
entangled from  the  birdlime  of  concupiscence  ;  that 
it  rebel  not  against  itself,  nor  even  in  dreams  commit 
those  debasing  corruptions,  even  to  pollution  of  the 
flesh,  nor  even  consent  unto  them.  For  that  nothing 
of  this  sort  should  have,  over  the  pure  affections  even 
of  a  sleeper,  the  very  least  influence,  not  even  such  as 
a  thought  would  restrain,  —  to  work  this,  not  only 
during  life,  but  even  at  my  present  age,  is  not  hard 
for  the  Almighty,  Who  is  able  to  do  above  all  that 
ice  ask  or  think. 2  But  what  I  yet  am  in  this  kind  of 
evil,  have  I  confessed  unto  my  good  Lord  ;  rejoicing 
with  trembling?  in  that  which  Thou  hast  given  me, 
and  bemoaning  that  wherein  I  am  still  imperfect ; 
hoping  that  Thou  wilt  perfect  Thy  mercies  in  me, 
even  to  perfect  peace,  which  my  outward  and  inward 

1  I's.  ciii.  3.  2  Eph.  iii.  20.  8  Fs.  ii.  11. 


even  in  his  natural  appetites.  277 

man  shall  have  with  Thee,  when  death  shall  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  victory. l 

XX3Q.  43.  There  is  another  evil  of  the  day?  which 
I  would  were  sufficient  for  it.  For  by  eating  and 
drinking  we  repair  the  daily  decays  of  our  body,  un- 
til Thou  destroy  both  belly  and.  meat?  when  Thou 
shalt  slay  my  emptiness  with  a  wonderful  fulness,  and 
clothe  this  incorruptible  with  an  eternal  incorruption.* 
But  now  the  necessity  is  sweet  unto  me,  against  which 
sweetness  I  fight,  that  I  be  not  taken  captive ;  and 
carry  on  a  daily  war  by  fastings ;  often  bringing  my 
body  into  subjection*  and  my  pains  are  removed  by 
pleasure.  For  hunger  and  thirst  are  in  a  manner  pains ; 
they  burn  and  kill  like  a  fever,  unless  the  medicine  of 
nourishment  comes  to  our  aid.  "Which,  since  it  is  at 
hand  through  the  consolations  of  Thy  gifts,  with  which 
land  and  water  and  air  serve  our  weakness,  our  calam- 
ity is  termed  gratification. 

44.  This  hast  Thou  taught  me  that  I  should  set 
myself  to  take  food  as  physic.  But  while  I  am  pass- 
ing from  the  discomfort  of  emptiness  to  the  content  of 
replenishing,  in  the  very  passage  the  snare  of  concupis- 
cence besets  me.  For  that  passing  is  pleasure,  nor  is 
there  any  other  way  to  pass  thither,  whither  we  needs 
must  pass.  And  health  being  the  cause  of  eating  and 
drinking,  there  joiueth  itself  as  an  attendant  a  danger- 
ous pleasure,  which  often  endeavors  to  go  before,  so 
that  I  may  for  her  sake  do  what  I  say  I  do,  or  wish  to 
do  for  health's  sake.  Nor  have  each  the  same  meas- 


1  1  Cor.  xv.  54.  81  Cor.  vi.  13.  s  l  Cor.  ix.  27. 

2  Matt.  vi.  34.  •«  1  Cor.  xv.  64. 


278  Desires  complete  governance 

ure ;  for  what  is  enough  for  health,  is  too  little  for 
pleasure.  And  oft  it  is  uncertain,  whether  it  be  the 
necessary  care  of  the  body  which  is  yet  askmg  for 
sustenance,  or  whether  a  voluptuous  deceivableness  of 
greediness  is  proffering  its  services.  In  this  uncer- 
tainty the  unhappy. soul  rejoices,  and  therein  prepares 
an  excuse  to  shield  itself,  glad  that  it  is  difficult  to  de- 
termine what  suffices  for  the  moderation  of  health,  so 
that  under  the  cloak  of  health  it  may  disguise'  the 
matter  of  gratification.  These  temptations  I  daily  en- 
deavor to  resist,  and  I  call  on  Thy  right  hand,  and  to 
Thee  do  I  refer  my  perplexities ;  because  I  have  as 
yet  no  settled  counsel  herein. 

45.  I  hear  the  voice  of  my  God  commanding,  Let 
not  your  hearts  be  overcharged  with  surfeiting  and 
drunkenness.1  Drunkenness  is  far  from  me :  Thou 
wilt  have  mercy,  that  it  come  not  near  me.  But  full- 
feeding  sometimes  creepeth  upon  Thy  servant :  Thou 
wilt  have  mercy,  that  it  may  be  far  from  me.  For  no 
one  can  be  continent  unless  Thou  give  it.2  Many 
things  Thou  givest  us,  praying  for  them;  and  what 
good  soever  we  have  received  before  we  prayed,  from 
Thee  we  received  it;  yea  to  the  end  we  might  after- 
wards know  this,  did  we  before  receive  it.  Drunkard 
was  I  never,  but  drunkards  have  I  known  made  sober 
by  Thee.  From  Thee  then  it  was,  that  they  who 
never  were  such,  should  not  so  be,  as  from  Thee  it  was, 
that  they  who  have  been  such,  should  not  ever  so  be  ; 
and  from  Thee  it  was,  that  both  might  know  from 
whom  it  was.  I  heard  another  voice  of  Thine,  Go  not 

1  Luke  xxi.  34.  2  Wisd.  viii.  21. 


of  his  appetites.  279 


after  thy  lusts,  and  from  thy  pleasures  turn  away* 
Yea  by  Thy  favor  have  I  heard  that  text  which  I 
have  much  loved  :  neither  if  we  eat,  shall  ire  abound; 
neither  if  we  eat  not,  shall  we  lack;2  which  is  to  say, 
neither  shall  the  one  make  me  plenteous,  nor  the  other 
miserable.  I  heard  also  another  text :  for  I  have 
learned  in  whatsoever  state  lam,  therewith  to.be  con- 
tent; I  know  how  to  abound,  and  hoic  to  suffer  need. 
I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengtheneth 
me?  Behold  a  soldier  of  the  heavenly  camp,  not  the 
dust  which  we  are.  But  remember*  Lord,  that  we  are 
dust,  and  that  of  dust  Thou  hast  made  man;6  and  he 
was  lost  and  is  found? m  Nor  could  Paul  of  himself  do 
^this  ;  because  he  whom  I  so  loved,  saying  fchis  through 
the  in-breathing  of  Thy  inspiration,  was  of  the  same 
dust.  I  can  do  all  things  (saith  he)  through  him  that 
strengtheneth  me.  Strengthen  me,  that  lean.  Give 
what  Thou  enjoinest,  and  enjoin  what  Thou  wilt.  He 
confesses  to  have  received,  and  when  he  glorieth,  in 
the  Lord  he  glorieth  J  Another  have  I  heard  begging 
that  he  might  receive  :  Take  from  me  (saith  he)  the 
desires  of  the  belly;8  whence  it  appeareth,  O  my  holy 
God,  that  Thou  givest,  when  that  is  done  which  Thou 
commandest  to  be  done. 

46.  Thou  hast  taught  me,  good  Father,  that  to  the 
pure  all  things  are  pure;  but  that  it  is  evil  unto  the 
man  that  eateth  icith  offence;9  and  that  every  crea- 
ture of  Thine  is  good,  and  nothing  to  be  refused,  which 


1  Eccl.  xviii.  30.  *  Ps.  ciii.  14.  1 1  Cor.  i.  30,  31. 

2  1  Cor.  viii.  8.  5  Gen.  iii.  19.  8  Eccl.  xxiii.  6. 

3  Phil.  iv.  11-13.  6  Luke  xv.  32.  9  Bom.  xiv.  20. 


280  Several  temptations 

is  received  icith  thanksgiving;1  and  that  meat  com- 
mendeth  us  not  to  God;*  and  that  no  man  should 
judge  us  in  meat  or  drink;*  and,  that  he  which  eateth, 
let  him  not  despise  him  that  eateth  not;  and  let  not 
him  that  eateth  not,  judge  him  that  eateth.*  These 
things  have  I  learned,  thanks  be  to  Thee,  praise  to  Thee, 
ray  God,  my  Master,  knocking  at  my  ears,  enlighten- 
ing my  heart,  delivering  me  out  of  all  temptation.  I 
fear  not  uncleanness  of  meat,  but  the  tmeleauness  of 
lusting.  I  know  that  Koah  was  permitted  to  eat  all 
kind  of  flesh  that  was  good  for  food;5  that  Elijah  was 
fed  with  flesh;6  that  John,  endued  with  an  admirable 
abstinence,  was  not  polluted  by  feeding  on  living  crea- 
tures, locusts.  I  know  also  that  Esau  was  deceived  by 
lustinsr  for  lentiles;7  and  that  David  blamed  himself 

O  ' 

for  desiring  a  draught  of  water;8  and  that  our  King 
was  tempted,  not  concerning  flesh,  but  bread.9  And 
also  the  people  in  the  wilderness  deserved  to  be  re- 
proved, not  for  desiring  flesh,  but  because,  in  the  desire 
of  food,  they  murmured  against  the  Lord.10 

47.  Placed,  then,  amid  these  temptations,  I  strive 
daily  against  concupiscence  in  eating  and  drinking. 
For  it  is  not  of  such  nature,  that  I  can  settle  on  cut- 
ting it  off  once  for  all,  and  never  touching  it  aftcr- 
wards,  as  I  could  concubinage.  The  bridle  of  the 
throat  then  is  to  be  held  attempered  between  slack- 
ness and  stiffness.  And  who  is  he,  O  Lord,  who  is 


1  1  Tim.  iv.  4.  a  Gen.  ix.  3.  82  Sam.  xxiil.  1&-17. 

2  1  Cor.  vii.  8.  «  1  Kings  xvii.  6.         9  Matt.  iv.  3. 

3  Col.  ii.  16.  7  Gen.  xxiii.  34.  10  Xumb.  xi. 
*  Rom.  xiv.  3. 


enter  through  the  senses.  281 

not  more  or  less  transported  beyond  the  limits  of  ne- 
cessity ?  whoever  he  is,  he  is  a  great  one ;  let  him 
make  Thy  Name  great.  But  I  am  not  such,  for  I  am 
a  sinful  man.1  Yet  do  I  too  magnify  Thy  name; 
and  lie  maketJi  intercession  to  Thee*  for  my  sins,  who 
hath  overcome  the  world;8  numbering  me  among  the 
weak  members  of  His  body;*  because  Thine  eyes  have 
seen  my  imperfections,  and  in  T?iy  book  shall  all  be 
written.' 

XXXII.  48.  With  the  allurement  of  perfumes  I  am 
not  much  concerned.     When  absent,  I  do  not  miss 
them  ;  when  present,  I  do  not  refuse  them ;  yet  ever 
ready  to  be  without  them.     So  I  seem  to  myself;  per- 

,  chance  I  am  deceived.  For  that  also  is  a  mournful 
darkness,  whereby  my  abilities  within  me  are  hidden 
from  me;  so  that  my  mind  making  inquiry  into 
herself  of  her  own  powers,  ventures  not  readily  to 
believe  herself;  because  even  what  is  in  it  is  mostly 
hidden,  unless  experience  reveal  it.  And  no  one  ought 
to  be  secure  in  that  life,  the  whole  whereof  is  called  a 
trial?  that  he  who  hath  been  capable  of  worse  to  be 
made  better,  may  not  likewise  of  better  be  made  worse. 
Our  only  h^>pe,  only  confidence,  only  assured  prom- 
ise, is  Thy  mercy. 

XXXIII.  49.   The  delights  of  the  ear  had  more 
firmly  entangled  and  subdued  me ;  but  Thou  didst 
loosen,  and  free  me.     Now,  in  those  melodies  which 
Thy  words  breathe  soul  into,  when  sung  with  a  sweet 
and  attuned  voice,  I  do  a  little  repose ;   yet  not  so 

1  Luke  v.  8.  3  John  xvi.  33.  «  Ps.  cxxxix.  16. 

2  Rom.  viii.  34.          41  Cor.  xii.  22.  6  Job  vii.  1.    Vulg. 


282         The  character  and  use  of  church  music. 

to  be  held  thereby,  but  that  I  can  disengage  myself 
when  I  will.  But  with  the  words  which  are  their  life, 
and  whereby  they  find  admission  into  me,  the  melodies 
themselves  seek  in  my  affections  a  place  of  some  estima- 
tion, and  I  can  scarcely  assign  them  one  suitable.  For 
at  one  time  I  seem  to  myself  to  give  them  more  honor 
than  is  seemly,  feeling  our  minds  to  be  more  holily 
and  fervently  raised  into  a  flame  of  devotion  by  the 
holy  words  themselves  when  thus  sung,  than  when  not ; 
and  that  the  several  affections  of  our  spirit,  by  a  sweet 
variety,  have  their  own  proper  measures  in  the  voice 
and  singing,  by  some  hidden  correspondence  wherewith 
they  are  stirred  up.  But  this  contentment  of  the  flesh, 
to  which  the  soul  must  not  be  given  over  to  be  ener- 
vated, doth  oft  beguile  me,  the  sense  not  so  waiting 
upon  reason  as  patiently  to  follow  her ;  but  having 
been  admitted  merely  for  her  sake,  it  strives  even  to 
run  before  her,  and  lead  her.  Thus  in  these  things 
I  unawares  sin,  but  afterwards  am  aware  of  it. 

50.  At  other  times,  shunning  over-anxiously  this 
very  deception,  I  err  in  too  great  strictness ;  and 
sometimes  to  that  degree  as  to  wish  the  whole  melody 
of  sweet  music  which  is  used  with  David's  Psalter 
banished  from  my  ears",  and  the  church's  too ;  and  that 
mode  seems  to  me  safer,  which  I  remember  to  have 
been  told  me  of  Athanasius  bishop  of  Alexandria,  who 
made  the  reader  of  the  psalm  utter  it  with  so  slight 
inflection  of  voice,  that  it  was  nearer  speaking  than 
singing.  Yet,  again,  when  I  remember  the  tears  I 
shed  at  the  Psalmody  of  Thy  Church,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  my  recovered  faith ;  and  how  at  this  time  I 


The  character  and  use  of  church  music.        283 

am  moved,  not  with  the  singing,  but  with  the  things 
sung,  when  they  are  sung  with  a  clear  voice  and  mod- 
ulation most  suitable,  I  acknowledge  the  great  use  of 
this  institution.  Thus  I  fluctuate  between  peril  of  pleas- 
ure and  approved  wholesomeness ;  inclined  the  rather 
(though  not  as  pronouncing  an  irrevocable  opinion) 
to  approve  of  the  usage  of  singing  in  the  church  ;  that 
so  by  the  delight  of  the  ears,  the  weaker  minds  may 
rise  to  the  feeling  of  devotion.  Yet  when  it  befalls 
me  to  be  more  moved  with  the  voice  than  the  words 
sung,  I  confess  to  have  sinned  penally,  and  then  had 
rather  not  hear  music.  See  now  my  state ;  weep  with 
me,  and  weep  for  me,  ye  who  so  regulate  your  feel- 
ings within  as  that  good  acts  ensue.  For  you  who 
do  not,  these  things  touch  not  you.  But  Thou,  O 
Lord  my  God,  hearken ;  behold,  and  see,  and  have 
mercy,  and  heal  me,1  Thou,  in  whose  presence  I  have 
become  a  problem  to  myself;  and  that  is  my  infirm- 
ity? 

XXXFV.  51.  There  remains  the  pleasure  of  these 
eyes  of  my  flesh,  on  which  to  make  my  confessions  in 
the  hearing  of  the  ears  of  Thy  temple,  those  brotherly 
and  devout  ears ;  and  so  to  conclude  the  temptations 
of  the  lust  of  thefltsh,  which  yet  assail  me,  groaning 
earnestly,  and  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon  with  my 
house  from  heaven?  The  eyes  love  fair  and  varied 
forms,  and  bright  and  soft  colors.  Let  not  these  oc- 
cupy my  soul ;  let  God  rather  occupy  it,  who  made 
tJiese  things,  very  good*  indeed,  yet  is  He  my  good,  not 
they.  And  these  affect  me,  waking,  the  whole  day, 

IPs.  vi.  3.  2  Ps.  Ixxvii.  10.          3  2  Cor.  v.  2.  4  Gen.  i.  81. 


284  The  blessings,  of  the  light. 

nor  is  any  rest  given  me  from  them,  as  there  is  from 
musical  voices,  and  sometimes,  in  silence,  from  all 
voices.  For  this  qneen  of  colors,  the  light,  bathing 
all  which  we  behold,  wherever  I  am  through  the  day, 
gliding  by  me  in  varied  forms,  sooths  me  when  engaged 
on  other  things  and  not  observing  it.  And  so  strongly 
does  it  entwine  itself,  that  if  it  be  suddenly  withdrawn, 
it  is  with  longing  sought  for,  and  if  absent  long,  sad- 
dens the  mind. 

52.  O  Thou  Light,  which  Tobias  saw,  when,  with 
eyes  closed,  he  taught  his  sou  the  way  of  life  ; i  and 
himself  went  before  with  the  feet  of  charity,  never 
swerving.  Or  which  Isaac  saw,  when,  his  fleshly  eyes 
being  heavy2  and  closed  by  old  age,  it  was  vouchsafed 
him,  not  knowingly  to  bless  his  sons,  but  by  blessing  to 
know  them.  Or  which  Jacob  saw,  when  he  also,  blind 
through  great  age,  with  illumined  heart,  in  the  pei-- 
sons  of  his  sons  shed  light  on  the  different  races  of  the 
future  people,  in  them  foresignified ;  and  laid  his  hands, 
mystically  crossed,  upon  his  grandchildren  by  Joseph, 
not  as  their  father  by  his  outward  eye  corrected 
them,  but  as  himself  inwardly  discerned.8  This  is 
the  light,  it  is  one,  and  all  are  one  who  see  and  love  it. 
But  that  corporeal  light  whereof  I  spake,  it  seasoneth 
the  life  of  this  world  for  her  blind  lovers,  with  an  en- 
ticing and  dangerous  sweetness.  But  they  who  know 
how  to  praise  Thee  for  it,  "  O  all-creating  Lord,"  take 
it  up  in  Thy  hymns  and  are  not  taken  up  with  it  in 
their  sleep.  Such  would  I  be.  These  seductions  of 
the  eyes  I  resist,  lest  my  feet  wherewith  I  walk  upon 

l  Tob.  iv.  2  Gen.  xxvii.  3  Gen.  xlviii. 


The  blessings  of  the  light.  28") 

Thy  way  be  ensnared ;  and  I  lift  up  mine  invisible 
eyes  to  Thee,  that  Thou  wouldst  pluck  my  feet  out  of 
the  snare.1  Thou  dost  ever  and  anon  pluck  them  out, 
for  they  are  ensnared.  '  Thou  ceasest  not  to  pluck 
them  out,  while  I  often  entangle  myself  in  the  snares 
on  all  sides  laid;  because  Thou  that  keepest  Israel 
shalt  neither  slumber  nor  sleep? 

53.  What  innumerable  toys,  made  by  divers  arts 
and  manufactures,  in  our  apparel,  shoes,  utensilsy  and 
all  sorts  of  works,  in  pictures,  also,  and  divers  images, 
and  these  far  exceeding  all  necessary  and  moderate 
use  and  all  pious  meaning,  have  men  added  to  tempt 
their  own  eyes  withal;  outwardly  following  what 
themselves  make,  inwardly  forsaking  Him  by  whom 
themselves  were  made,  and  destroying  that  which 
themselves  have  been  made !  But  I,  my  God  and  my 
Glory,  do  hence  also  sing  a  hymn  to  Thee,  and  do 
consecrate  praise  to  Him  who  consecrateth  me,  be- 
cause those  beautiful  patterns  which  through  men's 
souls  are  conveyed  into  their  cunning  hands,  come 
from  that  Beauty,  Which  is  above  our  souls,  Which 
my  soul  day  and  night  sigheth  after.  But  the  framers 
and  followers  of  the  outward  beauties,  derive  thence 
the  rule  of  judging  of  them,  but  not  of  using  them. 
And  He  is  there,  though  they  perceive  Him  not,  that 
so  they  might  not  wander,  but  keep  their  strength  for 
Thee?  and  not  scatter  it  abroad  upon  pleasurable  wea- 
rinesses. And  I,  though  I  speak  and  see  this,  entan- 
gle my  steps  with  these  outward  beauties ;  but  Thou 
pluckest  me  out,  O  Lord,  Thou  pluckest  me  out;  be- 

l  Ps.  xxv.  15.  2  Ps.  cxxi.  4.  3  ps.  Iviii.  10.  Vulg. 

21 


286  WJiat  is  meant,  by 

cause  Thy  loving-kindness  is  before  my  eyes.1  For  I 
am  taken  miserably,  and  Thou  pluckest  me  out  mer- 
cifully ;  sometimes  not  perceiving  it,  when  I  had  but 
lightly  lighted  upon  them ;  otherwhiles  with  pain,  be- 
cause I  had  stuck  fast  in  them. 

XXXV.  54.  To  this  is  added  another  form  of 
temptation  more  manifoldly  dangerous.  For  besides 
that  concupiscence  of  the  flesh  which  consisteth  in 
the  delight  of  all  senses  and  pleasures,  wherein  its 
slaves,  who  go  far  from  Thee,2  waste  and  perish,  the 
soul  hath,  through  the  same  senses  of  the  body,  a 
certain  vain  and  curious  desire,  veiled  under  the 
title  of  knowledge  and  learning,  not  of  delighting  in 
the  flesh,  but  of  making  experiments  through  the 
flesh.  The  seat  whereof  being  in  the  appetite  of 
knowledge,  and  sight  being  the  sense  chiefly  used 
for  attaining  knowledge,  it  is  in  Divine  language 
called  The  lust  of  the  eyes.3  For  to  see,  belongeth 
properly  to  the  eyes ;  yet  we  use  this  word  of  the 
other  senses  also,  when  we  employ  them  in  seeking 
knowledge.  For  we  do  not  say,  hark  how  it  flashes, 
or  smell  how.  it  glows,  or  taste  how  it  shines,  or  feel 
how  it  gleams ;  for  all  these  are  said  to  be  seen. 
And  yet  we  say  not  only,  see  how  it  shineth,  which 
the  eyes  alone  can  perceive ;  but  also,  see  how  it 
soundeth,  see  how  it  smelleth,  see  how  it  tasteth, 
see  how  hard  it  is.  And  so  the  general  experience 
of  the  senses,  as  was  said,  is  called  The  lust  of 
the  eyes,  because  the  oftice  of  seeing,  wherein  the 
eyes  hold  the  prerogative,  the  other  senses  by  way 

1  Ps.  xxv  3.  2  Ps.  Ixxiii.  27.  »  1  John  ii.  16. 


"  the  hist  of  the  eyes."  287 

of  similitude  take  to  themselves,  when  they  make 
search  after  any  knowledge. 

55.  But  by  this  may  more  evidently  be  discerned, 
wherein  pleasure,  and  wherein  curiosity,  is  the  ob- 
ject  of  the   senses ;    for  pleasure   seeketh   objects 
beautiful,  melodious,  fragrant,  savory,  soft ;  but  curi- 
osity, for  trial's  sake,  the  contrary,  as  well,  not  for 
the  sake  of  suffering  annoyance,  but  out  of  the  lust 
of  making  trial  and  knowing  them.    For  what  pleas- 
ure hath  it,  to  see  in  a  mangled  carcass  what  will 
make  yoii  shudder?  and  yet  if  it  be  lying  near,  men 
flock  thither,  to  be  made  sad,  and  to  turn  pale.   Even 
in  sleep  they  are  afraid  to  see  it.    As  if  when  awake, 
any  one  forced  them  to  see  it,  or  any  report  of  its 
beauty  drew  them  thither !     Thus  also  in  the  other 
senses,  which  it  were  long  to  go  through.     From 
this  disease  of  curiosity,  are  all  those  strange  sights 
exhibited   in   the   theatre.     Hence,  men   go   on   to 
search^ut  the  hidden  powers  of  nature,  which  to 
know  profits  not,  and  wherein  men  desire  nothing 
but   to   know.     Hence,   also,   with   that   same   end 
of  perverted  knowledge  in  view,  magical1  arts  are 
employed.      Hence,  also,  in   religion   itself,  is   God 
tempted,  when  signs  and  wonders  are  demanded  of 
Him ;  not  desired  for  any  good  end,  but  merely  to 
make  trial  of. 

56.  In  this  so  vast  wilderness,  full  of  snares  and 
dangers,  behold  many  of  them  I  have  cut  off,  and 
thrust   out   of  my  heart,  as   Thou   hast   given   me 
power,  O  God  of  my  salvation.     And  yet  when  dare 
I  say, — since  so  many  things  of  this  kind  buzz  on  all 


288  The  danger  of  curiosity. 

sides  about  our  daily  life,  —  when  dare  I  say,  that 
nothing  of  this  sort  engages  my  attention,  or  causes 
in  me  an  idle  interest '?  True,  the  theatres  do  not 
now  carry  me  away,  nor  care  I  to  know  the  courses 
of  the  stars,  nor  did  my  soul  ever  consult  ghosts  de- 
parted ;  all  sacrilegious  mysteries  I  detest.  From 
Thee,  O  Lord  my  God,  to  whom  I  owe  humble  and 
single-hearted  service,  by  what  artifices  and  sugges- 
tions doth  the  enemy  deal  with  me  to  desire  some 
sign  !  But  I  beseech  Thee  by  our  King,  and  by  our 
pure  and  holy  country,  Jerusalem,  that  as  any  con- 
senting thereto  is  far  from  me,  so  may  it  ever  be 
further  and  further.  But  when  I  pray  Thee  for  the 
salvation  of  any,  my  end  and  intention  is  far  differ- 
ent. Thou  givest  and  wilt  give  me  tofoUow  Thee 
willingly,  doing  what  Thou  wilt.1 

57.  Notwithstanding,  who  can  recount  in  how 
many  most  petty  and  contemptible  things  is  our 
curiosity  daily  tempted,  and  how  often  we  give 
way  ?  How  often  do  we  begin,  as  if  we  were  tol- 
erating people  telling  vain  stories,  lest  we  offend  the 
weak  ;  then  by  degrees  we  take  interest  therein  !  I 
go  not  now  to  the  circus  to  see  a  dog  coursing  a 
hare ;  but  in  the  field,  if  passing,  that  coursing  per- 
adventure  will  distract  me  even  from  some  weighty 
thought,  and  draw  me  after  it :  not  that  I  turn  aside 
the  body  of  my  beast,  yet  still  incline  my  mind 
thither.  And  unless  Thou,  having  made  me  see  my 
infirmity,  didst  speedily  admonish  me,  either  through 
the  sight  itself  by  some  contemplation  to  rise  to- 

1  John  xxi.  22. 


The,  danger  of  curiosity.  289 

wards  Thee,  or  altogether  to  despise  and  pass  it  by, 
I  stupidly  stand  fixed  therein.  "When  sitting  at 
home,  a  lizard  catching  flies,  or  a  spider  entangling 
them  as  they  rush  into  her  nets,  ofttimes  takes  my 
attention.  Is  the  thing  different,  because  they  are 
but  small  creatures  ?  I  indeed  go  on  from  them  to 
praise  Thee,  the  wonderful  Creator  and  Orderer  of 
all,  but  this  does  not  first  draw  my  attention.  It  is 
one  thing  to  rise  quickly,  another  not  to  fall.  And 
of  such  things  is  nay  life  full ;  and  my  one  hope  is 
Thy  wonderful  great  mercy.  For  when  our  heart 
becomes  the  receptacle  of  such  things,  and  is  over- 
charged with  throngs  of  this  abundant  vanity,  then 
are  our  prayers  also  thereby  often  interrupted  and 
distracted,  and  whilst  in  Thy  presence  we  direct  the 
voice  of  our  heart  to  Thine  ears,  this  so  great  con- 
cern is  broken  off,  by  the  rushing  in  of  I  know  not" 
w"hat  idle  thoughts.  Shall  we  then  account  this  also 
among  things  of  slight  concernment,  or  shall  aught 
bring  us  back  to  hope,  save  Thy  complete  mercy, 
since  Thou  hast  begun  to  change  us  ? 

XXXVI.  58.  And  Thou  knowest  how  far  Thou 
hast- already  changed  me,  who  first  didst  heal  me  of 
the  lust  of  vindicating  myself,  that  so  Thou  might- 
est  forgive  all  the  rest  of  my  iniquities,  and  heal  att 
my  infirmities,  and  redeem  my  life  from  corruption, 
and  crown  me  with  mercy  and  pity,  and  satisfy  my 
desire  with  good  things  :l  who  didst  curb  my  pride 
with  Thy  fear,  and  tame  my  neck  to  Thy  yoke.  And 
now  I  bear  it,  and  it  is  light'  unto  me,  because  so 

l  Ts.  ciii.  3—5.  2  Matt.  xi.  30. 


290  The  love  of  the  praise  of  men, 

hast  Thou  promised,  and  hast  made  it ;  and  verily  s<? 
it  was,  and  I  knew  it  not,  when  I  feared  to  take  it. 

59.  But,  O  Lord,  Thou  alone  Lord  without  pride, 
because  Thou  art  the  only  true  Lord,  who  hast  no 
lord,  hath  this  third  kind  of  temptation  also  ceased 
from  me,  or  can  it  cease  through  this  whole  life  ? 
To  wish,  namely,  to  be  feared  and  loved  of  men,  for 
no  other  end  but  that  we  may  have  a  joy  therein, 
which  is  no  joy  ?  A  miserable  life  this,  and  a  foul 
boastfulness !  Hence  especially  it  comes,  that  men 
do  neither  purely  love,  nor  fear  Thee.  And  there- 
fore dost  Thou  resist  the  proud,  and  givest  grace  to 
the  humble:1  yea,  Thou  thunderest  down  upon  the 
ambitions  of  the  world,  and  the  foundations  of  the 
mountains  tremble?  Because  now  certain  offices  of 
human  society  mak«  it  necessary  to  be  loved  and 
"feared  of  men,  the  adversary  of  our  true  blessedness 
layeth  hard  at  us,  everywhere  spreading  his  snares 
of  "  well  done,  well  done ;"  that,  greedily  catching 
at  them,  we  may  be  taken  unawares,  and  sever  our 
joy  from  Thy  truth,  and  set  it  in  the  deceivingness 
of  men ;  and  be  pleased  at  being  loved  and  feared, 
not  for  Thy  sake,  but  in  Thy  stead  :  and  thus  haying 
been  made  like  him,  he  may  have  them  for  his  own, 
not  in  the  bands  of  charity,  but  in  the  bonds  of  pun- 
ishment :  who  purposed  to  set  his  throne  in  the 
north,9  that,  dark  and  chilled,  they  might  serve  him, 
pervcrtedly  and  crookedly  imitating  Thee.  But  we, 
O  Lord,  behold  we  are  Thy  little  flock /*  possess  us 
as  Thine,  stretch  Thy  wings  over  us,  and  let  us  fly 

1  James  iv.  6.        2  Pg.  xviii.  7.        "  Is.  xiv.  13, 14.        *  Luke  xii.  32. 


another  snare.  291 


under  them.  Be  Thou  our  glory;  let  us  be  loved 
for  Thee,  and  Thy  word  feared  in  us.  He  who 
would  be  praised  of  men  when  Thou  blatnest,  will 
not  be  defended  of  men  when  Thou  judgest ;  nor 
delivered  when  Thou  condemnest.  But  when, — 
not  the  sinner  is  praised  in  the  desires  of  his  soul,1 
nor  he  blessed  who  doth  ungodly,2  but,  —  a  man  is 
praised  for  some  gift  which  Thou  hast  given  him, 
and  he  rejoices  more  at  the  praise  for  himself  than 
that  he  hath  the  gift  for  which  he  is  praised,  he  also 
is  praised,  while  Thou  dispraisest ;  and  better  is  he 
who  praised  than  he  who  is  praised.  For  the  one 
took  pleasure  in  the  gift  of  God  in  man ;  the  other 
was  better  pleased  with  the  gift  of  man,  than  of 
God. 

XXXVII.  60.  By  these  temptations  we  are  as- 
sailed daily,  O,  Lord ;  without  ceasing  we  are  assailed. 
Our  daily  furn ace3  is  the  tongue  of  men.  And  in  this 
way,  also,  Thou  commandest  us  self-denial.  Give 
what  Thou  enjoinest,  and  enjoin  what  Thou  wilt. 
Thouknowest  on  this  matter  the  groans  of  my  heart, 
and  the  floods  of  mine  eyes.  For  I  cannot  learn  how 
far  I  am  cleansed  from  this  plague,  and  I  much  fear 
my  secret  sins*  which  Thine  eyes  know,  mine  do  not. 
For  in  other  kinds  of  temptations  I  have  some  sort  of 
means  of  examining  myself;  in  this,  scarce  any.  For, 
in  refraining  my  mind  from  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh, 
and  idle  curiosity,  I  see  how  much  I  have  attained 
to,  when  I  do  without  them  ;  foregoing,  or  not  having 
them.  For  then  I  ask  myself  how  much  more  or  less 

1  P».  ix.  29.  Vulg.        2  Ps.  x.  3.        3  Prov.  xxvii.  21.        <  Ps.  xix.  12. 


292  Limits  within  which 

troublesome  it  is  to  me,  not  to  have  them  ?  Thus, 
riches,  which  are  desired  that  they  may  serve  to  some 
one  or  two  or  all  of  the  three  concupiscences,1  if  the 
soul  cannot  discern  whether,  when  it  hath  them  it  de- 
spiseth  them,  they  may  be  cast  aside,  that  so  it  may 
prove  itself.  But  how  can  we  divest  ourselves  .of 
praise,  and  try  ourselves  in  this  respect  ?  Must  we 
live  ill,  yea  so  abandonedly  and  atrociously,  that  no 
one  should  know  us  without  detesting  us?  What 
greater  madness  can  be  uttered,  or  thought  of?  But 
if  praise  is  wont,  and  ought,  to  accompany  a  good  life 
and  good  works,  we  ought  as  little  to  forego  its  com- 
pany, as  good  life  itself.  Yet  I  know  not  whether  I 
can  contentedly  or  discontentedly  be  without  any 
thing,  unless  it  be  absent. 

61.  What  then  do  I  confess  unto  Thee  in  this  kind  of 
temptation,  O  Lord  ?  What,  but  that  I  am  delighted 
with  praise,  but  with  truth  itself,  more  than  with 
praise  ?  For  were  it  proposed  to  me,  whether  I  would, 
being  frenzied  in  error  on  all  things,  be  praised  by 
all  men,  or  being  consistent  and  most  settled  in  the 
truth,  be  blamed  by  all,  I  see  which  I  should  choose. 
Yet  fain  would  I,  that  the  approbation  of  another 
should  not  even  increase  my  joy  for  any  good  in  me. 
Yet  I  own,  it  doth  increase  it,  and  not  so  only,  but 
dispraise  doth  diminish  it.  And  when  I  am  troubled 
at  this  my  misery,  an  excuse  occurs  to  me,  which  of 
what  value  it  is,  Thou  God  knowest,  for  it  leaves  me 
uncertain.  For  since  Thou  hast  commanded  us  not 
contiuency  alone,  that  is,  from  what  things  to  refrain 

1 1  John  ii.  10. 


the  love  of  praise  is  allowable.  293 

our  love,  but  righteousness  also,  that  is,  whereon  to 
bestow  it,  and  hast  willed  us  to  love  not  Thee  only, 
but  our  neighbor  also,  often,  when  pleased  with  intel- 
ligent praise,  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  pleased  with  the 
proficiency  or  towardlines?  of  my  neighbor,  or  to  be 
grieved  for  evil  in  him,  when  I  hear  him  dispraise 
either  what  he  understands  not,  or  is  good.  For 
sometimes  I  am  grieved  at  my  own  praise,  either 
when  those  things  be  praised  in  me,  in  which  I  mislike 
myself,  or  even  lesser  and  slight  excellences  are  more 
esteemed  than  they  ought  to  be.  But,  again,  how 
do  I  know  whether  I  am  not  thus  affected,  because 
I  would  not  have  him  who  praises  me,  differ  from  me 
about  myself;  not  as  being  influenced  by  concern  for 
him,  but  because  those  same  good  things  which  please 
me  in  myself,  please  me  more  when  they  please 
another  also  ?  For  somehow  I  am  not  praised  when 
my  judgment  of  myself  is  not  praised ;  forasmuch  as 
either  those  things  are  praised,  which  displease  me ; 
or  those  more,  winch  please  me  less.  Am  I  then 
doubtful  of  myself  in  this  matter? 

62.  Behold,  in  Thee,  O  Truth,  I  see,  that  I  ought 
not  to  be  moved  at  my  own  praises,  for  my  own  sake, 
but  for  the  good  of  my  neighbor.  And  whether  it  be 
so  with  me,  I  know  not.  For  herein  I  know  less  of 
myself  than  of  Thee.  I  beseech  now,  O  my  God, 
discover  to  me  myself  also,  that  I  may  confess  unto 
my  brethren,  who  are  to  pray  for  me,  wherein  I  find 
myself  maimed.  Let  me  examine  myself  again  more 
diligently.  If  in  my  praise  I  am  moved  with  the 
good  of  my  neighbor,  why  am  I  less  moved  if  another 


294  Confesses  marfs  inability 

be  unjustly  dispraised  than  if  it  be  myself?  "SVhy 
am  I  more  stung  by  reproach  cast  upon  myself,  than 
at  that  cast  upon  another,  with  the  same  injustice  be- 
fore me?  Know  I  not  this  also?  or  is  it  at  last  that 
I  deceive  myself?  and  do  not  the  truth  before  Thee  in 
my  heart  and  tongue?  This  madness  put  far  from  me, 
O  Lord,  lest  mine  own  mouth  be  to  me  the  sinner's 
oil  to  make  fat  my  head?  I  am  poor  and  needy;9  yet 
best,  while  in  hidden  groanings  I  mortify  myself,  and 
seek  Thy  mercy,  until  what  is  lacking  in  my  defective 
state  be  renewed  and  perfected,  even  to  that  peace 
which  the  eye  of  the  proud  knoweth  not. 

XXXVIII.  63.  Yet  the  word,  which  cometh  out  of 
the  mouth,  and  deeds  known  to  men,  bring  with  them 
a  most  dangerous  temptation  through  the  love  of 
praise ;  which,  to  establish  a  certain  excellency  of  our 
own,  solicit  and  collect  men's  suffrages.  It  tempts, 
even  when  it  is  reproved  by  myself  in  myself,  on  the 
very  ground  that  it  is  reproved ;  and  often  glories 
more  vainly  of  the  very  contempt  of  vain-glory ;  and 
so  it  is  no  longer  contempt  of  vain-glory,  whereof  it 
glories ;  for  it  doth  not  contemn  when  it  glorieth. 

XXIX.  64.  Within  also,  within  is  another  evil,  aris- 
ing out  of  a  like  temptation ;  whereby  men  become 
vain,  pleasing  themselves  in  themselves,  though  they 
please  not,  or  displease,  or  care  not  to  please,  others. 
But  pleasing  themselves,  they  much  displease  Thee, 
not  only  taking  pleasure  in  things  not  good,  as  if  good, 
but  in  Thy  good  things,  as  if  they  were  their  own ; 
or  even  if  as  Thine,  yet  as  though  for  their  own  mer- 

1  Gal.  vi.  3;  1  John  i.  8.  2  Pg.  cxli.  5.  3  Ps.  cix.  22. 


to  search  out  himself.  295 

its ;  or  even  if  as  though  from  Thy  grace,  yet  not  with 
brotherly  rejoicing,  but  grudging  that  grace  to  others. 
In  all  these  and  the  like  perils  and  travails,  Thou  seest 
the  trembling  of  my  heart ;  and  I  rather  feel  my 
wounds  to  be  cured  by  Thee,  than  not  inflicted  by 
me. 

XT.,  65.  Where  hast  Thou  not  walked  with  me,  O 
Truth,  teaching  me  what  to  beware,  and  what  to  de- 
sire, when  I  referred  to  Thee  what  I  could  discover 
here  below,  and  consulted  Thee  ?  "With  my  outward 
senses,  as  I  might,  I  surveyed  the  world,  and  observed 
the  life  which  my  body  hath  from  me,  and  these  my 
senses.  Thence  entered  I  the  recesses  of  my  mem- 
ory, those  manifold  and  spacious  chambers,  wonder- 
fully furnished  with  innumerable  stores ;  and  I  consid- 
ered, and  stood  aghast ;  being  able  to  discern  nothing 
of  these  things  without  Thee,  and  finding  none  of 
them  to  be  Thee.  Nor  was  it  I  myself  who  found 
out  these  things,  who  went  over  them  all,  and  labored 
to  distinguish  and  to  value  every  thing  according 
to  its  dignity,  taking  some  things  upon  the  report  of 
my  senses,  questioning  about  others  which  I  felt  to  be 
mixed  up  with  myself,  numbering  and  distinguishing 
the  reporters  themselves,  and  in  the  large  treasure- 
house  of  my  memory,  revolving  some  things,  storing 
up  others,  drawing  out  others,  — nor  was  it  I  myself 
who  did  this  :  that  is,  it  was  not  my  power  whereby 
I  did  it.  Neither  was  it  Thou,  for  Thou  art  the 
abiding  light,  which  I  consulted  concerning  all 
these,  whether  they  were,  what  they  were,  and  how 
to  be  valued  ;  and  I  heai'd  Thee  directing  and  com- 


296  There  must  be  a  Mediator 

manding  me ;  and  this  I  often  do,  this  delights  me, 
and  as  far  as  I  maybe  freed  from  necessary  duties,  unto 
this  pleasure  have  I  recourse.  Nor  in  all  these,  which 
I  run  over  consulting  Thee,  can  I  find  any  safe  place 
for  my  soul,  but  in  Thee  ;  whither  my  scattered  mem- 
bers may  be  gathered,  and  nothing  of  me  depart 
from  Thee.  And  sometimes  Thou  admittest  me  to 
an  affection,  very  unusual,  in  my  inmost  soul ;  rising 
to  a  strange  sweetness,  which  if  it  were  perfected 
in  me,  I  know  not  what  in  it  would  not  belong  to  the 
life  to  come.  But  through  my  miserable  encum- 
brances I  sink  down  again  into  these  lower  things, 
and  am  swept  back  by  former  custom,  and  am  held, 
and  greatly  weep,  but  am  greatly  held.  So  much 
doth  the  burden  of  a  bad  custom  weigh  us  down. 
Here  I  can  stay,  but  would  not;  there  I  would,  but 
cannot ;  both  ways,  miserable. 

XLI.  66.  Thus  then  have  I  considered  the  sick- 
nesses of  my  sins  in  that  threefold  concupiscence, 
and  have  called  Thy  right  hand  to  my  help.  For 
with  a  wounded  heart  have  I  beheld  Thy  brightness, 
and  stricken  back  I  said,  "  Who  can  attain  thither  ? 
I  am  cast  away  from  the  sight  of  thine  eyes}  Thou 
art  the  Truth  who  presidest  over  all,  but  I,  through 
my  covetousness,  would  not  indeed  forego  Thee,  but 
would  with  Thee  possess  a  falsehood,  just  as  no  man 
would  speak  falsely,  in  such  a  way,  and  to  such  a  de- 
gree, as  to  wholly  lose  the  knowledge  of  truth.  So 
then  I  lost  Thee,  because  Thou  vouchsafest  not  to  be 
possessed  along  with  a  falsehood." 

l  Ps.  xxxi.  22. 


between  God  and  man.  297 

XLII.  67.  Whom  could  I  find  to  reconcile  me  to 
Thee  ?  was  I  to  have  recourse  to  angels  ?  by  what 
prayers  ?  by  what  sacraments  ?  Many  endeavoring 
to  return  unto  Thee,  and  of  themselves  unable,  have,  as 
I  hear,  tried  this,  and  fallen  into  the  desire  of  curious 
visions,  and  been  accounted  worthy  to  be  deluded. 
For  they,  being  high-minded,  sought  Thee  by  the 
pride  of  learning,  swelling  out  their  breasts,  rather 
than  smiting  upon  them,  and  so  by  the  agreement  of 
their  heart,  drew  unto  themselves  the  princes  of  the 
air,1  the  fellow-conspirators  of  their  pride,  by  whom, 
through  magical  influences,  they  were  deceived,  seek- 
ing a  mediator  by  whom  they  might  be  purged,  and 
there  was  none.  For  the  devil  it  was,  transforming 
himself  into  an  Angel  of  Light?  And  it  much  enticed 
proud  flesh,  that  he  had  no  body  of  flesh.  For  they 
were  mortal,  and  sinners ;  but  Thou  Lord,  to  whom 
they  proudly  sought  to  be  reconciled,  art  immortal, 
and  without  sin.  But  a  mediator  between  God  and 
man  must  have  something  like  to  God,  something 
like  to  men  ;  lest  being  in  both  like  to  man,  he  should 
be  far  from  God ;  or  if  in  both  like  God,  too  unlike 
man  ;  and  so  not  be  a  mediator.  That  deceitful  me- 
diator, then,  by  whom  in  Thy  secret  judgments  pride 
deserved  to  be  deluded,  hath  one  thing  in  common 
with  man,  that  is  sin  ;  another  he  would  seem  to 
have  in  common  with  God ;  and  not  being  clothed 
with  the  mortality  of  flesh,  would  vaunt  himself  to  be 
immortal.  But  since  the  wages  of  sin  is  death?  this 

l  Eph.  ii.  2.  22  Cor.  xi.  14.  S  Rom.  vi.  20. 


298  Christ  a  sufficient  Mediator. 

hath  he   in  common  with  men,  that  with  them,  he 
should  be  condemned  to  death.  * 

XLIII.  68.  But  the  true  Mediator,  Whom  in  Thy 
secret  mercy  Thou  hast  showed  to  the  humble,  and 
sentest,  that  by  His  example  also  they  might  learn 
that  same  humility,  that  Mediator  between  God  and 
man,  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,1  appeared  betwixt  mor- 
tal sinners  and  the  Immortal  Jus.t  One ;  mortal  with 
men,  just  with  God  ;  that,  because  the  wages  of  right- 
eousness is  life  and  peace,  He  might,  by  a  righteous- 
ness conjoined  with  God,  make  void  that  death  of 
sinner,s,  now  justified,  which  He  willed  to  have  in 
common  with  them.  Hence  He  was  showed  forth  to 
holy  men  of  old,  that  so  they,  through  faith  in  His 
Passion  to  come,  as  we  through  faith  in  it  passed, 
might  be  saved.  For  as  Man,  He  was  a  Mediator;2 
but  as  the  Word,  he  was  not  in  the  middle  (Media- 
tor) between  God  and  man,  because  he  was  equal  to 
God,  and  God  with  God,  atfd  together  one  God. 

69.  How  hast  Thou  loved  us,  good  Father,  who 
sparedst.  not  Thine  only  Son,  but  deliveredst  lEm  up 
for  us  ungodly!5  How  hast  Thou  loved  us,  for  whom 
lie  that  thought  it  no  robbery  to  be  equal  icith  Tliee, 
was  made  subject  even  to  the  death  of  the  cross*  He 
alone  free  among  the  dead,6  having  power  to  lay  down 
His  life,  and  power  to  take  it  again:6  for  us,  to  Thee, 
both  Victor  and  Victim,  and  therefore  Victor,  because 
the  Victim ;  for  us,  to  Thee,  Priest  and  Sacrifice,  and 

1  1  Tim.  ii.  20. 

2  Bather,  as  God-Man;  mere  humanity  is  not  "in  the  middle  between 
God  and  man."  —  ED. 

3  Horn.  viii.  32.       *  Phil.  ii.  6,  8.       5  Ps.  Ixxxviii.  5.        6  John  x.  18. 


Christ  a  sufficient  Mediator.  209 

therefore  Priest  because  the  Sacrifice ;  making  us,  to 
Thee,  of  servants,  sons,  by  being  "born  of  Thee,  and 
serving  us.  Deservedly  then  is  my  hope  strong  in 
Him,  that  Thou  wilt  heal  all  my  infirmities,1  by  Him 
Who  sitteth  at  Thy  right  hand  and  maJceth  inter* 
cession  for  us;2  else  should  I  despair.  For  many  and 
great  are  my  infirmities,  many  they  are  and  great ; 
but  Thy  medicine  is  mightier.  We  might  imagine 
that  Thy  Word  was  far  from  any  union  with  man, 
and  despair  of  ourselves,  unless  He  had  been  made 
flesh  and  dwelt  among  us? 

70.  Affrighted  with  my  sins,  and  the  burden  of  my 
misery,  I  had  thought  in  my  heart,  and  had  purposed, 
to  flee  to  the  wilderness:*  but  Thou  forbaddest  me, 
and  strengthenedst  me,  saying,  Therefore  Christ  died 
for  all,  that  they  which  live  may  now  no  longer  live 
unto  themselves,  but  unto  Him  that  died  for  them? 
See,  Lord,  least  my  care  upon  Thee,6  that  I  may  live, 
and  consider  wondrous  things  out  of  Thy  law.7  Thou 
knowest  my  unskilfulness,  and  my  infirmities ;  teach 
me,  and  heal  me.  He,  Thine  only  son,  in  Whom  are 
hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge?  hath 
redeemed  me  with  His  blood.  Let  not  the  proud 
speak  evil  of  me;9  because  I  meditate  on  my  Ran- 
som, and  eat  and  drink,  and  appropriate  it ;  and  poor, 
desire  to  be  satisfied  from  Him,  amongst  those  that 
eat  and  are  satisfied.  And  they  shall  praise  the  Lord 
who  seek  Him.10 

1  Ps  ciii.  3.  a  2  Cor.  v.  15.  8  Col.  ii.  3. 

2  Rom.  viii.  34.  6  P8.  Iv.  22.  9  Ps.  cxix.  122.  Vulg. 

3  John  i.  12.  7  ps.  cxix.  18.  10  Ps.  xxii  26. 

4  Ps.  Iv.  7. 


THE  ELEVENTH  BOOK. 


AUGUSTINE  BREAKS  OFF  THE  HISTORY  OP  THE  MODE  WHEREBY  GOD 
LED  HIM  TO  HOLY  ORDERS,  IN  ORDER,  TO  "  CONFESS"  GOD'S  MER- 
CIES IN  OPENING  TO  HIM  THE  SCRIPTURE  —  MOSES  IS  NOT  TO  BE 
UNDERSTOOD,  BUT  IN  CHRIST,  —  NOT  EVEN  THE  FIRST  WORDS,  "  IN 
THE  BEGINNING  GOD  CREATED  THE  HEAVEN  AND  THE  EARTH"  — 
ANSWER  TO  CAVILLERS,  WHO  ASKED,  WHAT  DID  GOD  BEFORE  HE 
CREATED  THE  HEAVEN  AND  THE  EARTH,  AND  WHENCE  WILLED  HE 
AT  LENGTH  TO  MAKE  THEM,  WHEREAS  HE  DID  NOT  MAKE  THEM 
BEFORE — INQUIRY  INTO  THE  NATURE  OF  TIME. 


I.  1.  Lord,  since  eternity  is  Thine,  art  Thou  igno- 
rant of  what  I  say  to  Thee  ?  or  dost  Thou  see  in  : 
time,  what  passeth  in  time  ?  Why  then  do  I  lay  in 
order  before  Thee  so  many  relations  ?  Not,  of  a 
truth,  that  Thou  mightest  learn  them  through  me, 
but  to  stir  up  mine  own,  and  my  readers'  devotions 
towards-  Thee,  that  we  may  all  say,  Great  is  the 
Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised}-  I  have  said  al- 
ready, and  again  will  say,  for  love  of  Thy  love  do  I 
this.  For  we  pray,  also ;  and  yet  Truth  hath  said, 
Your  Father' knoweth  what  you  have  need  of,  before 
you  ask?  It  is  then  our  affections  which  we  lay 
open  unto  Thee,  confessing  our  own  miseries,  and 
Thy  mercies  upon  us,  that  Thou  mayest  free  us 

i  Ps.  xcvi.  4.  2  Matt.  vi.  8. 


Augustine  prays  to  be  kept  from  error.        301 

wholly,  since  Thou  hast  begun,  that  we  may  cease  to 
be  wretched  in  ourselves,  and  be  blessed  in  Thee ; 
seeing  Thou  hast  called  us,  to  become  poor  in  spirit, 
and  meek,  and  mourners,  and  hungering  and  athirst 
after  righteousness,  and  merciful,  and  pure  in  heart, 
and  peace-makers.1  See,  I  have  told  Thee  many 
things,  as  I  could  and  as  I  would,  because  Thou  first 
wouldest  that  I  should  confess  unto  Thee,  my  Lord 
God.  For  Thou  art  good,  for  Thy  mercy  endureth 
forever? 

II.  2.  But  how  shall  I  suffice  with  the  tongue  of 
my  pen  to  utter  all  Thy  exhortations,  and  all  Thy 
terrors,  and  comforts,  and  guidances,  whereby  Thou 
broughtest  me  to  preach  Thy  Word,  and  dispense 
Thy  Sacrament  to  Thy  people  ?  And  if  I  suffice  to 
utter  them  in  order,  the  drops  of  time  are  precious 
with  me  ;  and  long  have  I  burned  to  meditate  in 
Thy  law,3  and  therein  to  confess  to  Thee  my  skill 
and  unskilfulness,  the  day-break  of  Thy  enlightening 
and  the  remnants  of  my  darkness,  until  infirmity  be 
swallowed  up  by  strength.  And  I  would  not  have 
aught  besides  steal  away  those  hours,  which  I  find 
free  from  the  necessities  of  refreshing  my  body  and 
the  powers  of  my  mind,  and  the  service  which  we  owe 
to  men,  or  which,  though  we  owe  not,  we  yet  pay. 

3.  O  Lord  my  God,  give  ear  unto  my  prayer,  and 
let  Thy  mercy  hearken  unto  my  desire  :  because  it  is 
anxious,  not  for  myself  alone,  but  would  serve 
brotherly  charity ;  and  Thou  secst  my  heart,  that  so 
it  is.  I  would  sacrifice  to  Thee  the  service  of  my 

l  Matt.  v.  3—9.  2  p8.  cxxxvi.  3  ps.  cxix.  97. 

22 


302  Augustine  prays  for  light 

thought  and  tongue ;  do  Thou  give  me  what  I  may 
offer  Thee.  For  I  am  poor  and  needy,  Thou  rich  to 
all  that  call  upon  Thee;^  and,  inaccessible  to  care, 
carest  for  us.  Circumcise  from  all  rashness  and  all 
lying  both  my  inward  and  outward  lips  ;  let  Thy 
Scriptures  be  my  pure  delights ;  let  me  not  be  de- 
ceived in  them,  nor  deceive  out  of  them.  Lord, 
hearken  and  pity,  O  Lord  my  God,  Light  of  the 
blind,  and  Strength  of  the  weak  ;  yea,  also,  Light  of 
those  that  see,  and  Strength  of  the  strong :  hearken 
unto  my  soul,  and  hear  it  crying  out  of  the  depths? 
For  if  Thine  ears  be  not  with  us  in  the  depths  also, 
whither  shall  we  go?  whither  cry?  The  day  is 
Thine,  and  the  night  is  Thine ;  at  Thy  beck  the 
moments  flee  by.  Grant  thereof  a  space  for  our 
meditations  in  the  hidden  things  of  Thy  law,  and 
close  it  not  against  us  who  knock.  For  not  in  vain 
wouldest  Thou  have  the  darksome  secrets  of  so 
many  pages  written  ;  nor  are  those  forests  without 
their  harts,  which  retire  therein  and  range  and  walk, 
feed,  lie  down,  and  ruminate.  Perfect  me,  O  Lord, 
and  reveal  them  unto  me.  Behold,  Thy  voice  is  my 
joy ;  Thy  voice  exceedeth  the  abundance  of  pleas- 
ures. Give  what  I  love:  for  I  do  love;  and  this 
hast  Thou  given.  Forsake  not  Thy  own  gifts,  nor 
despise  Thy  green  herb  that  thirsteth.  Let  me  con- 
fess unto  Thee  whatsoever  I  shall  find  in  Thy  books, 
and  hear  the  voice  of  praise,  arrd  drink  in  Thee,  and 
meditate  on  the  wonderful  things  out  of  Thy  laic  ; 
even  from  the  beginning,  wherein  Thou  madest  the 

1  Ps.  xl.  17,  Ixxxvi.  5.  2  Ts.  cxxx.  1. 


and  true  knmcledge.  303 

heaven  and  the  earth,  unto  the  everlasting  reigning 
of  Thy  holy  city  with  Thee. 

4.  Lord)  have  mercy  on  me,  and  hear  my  desire. 
For  it  is  not,  I  deem,  desire  of  the  earth,  not  of  gold 
and  silver  and  precious  stones,  or  gorgeous  apparel, 
or  honors  and  offices,  or  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh,  or 
necessaries  for  the  body-  and  for  this  life  of  our  pil- 
grim dge,  —  all  which  shall  be  added  unto  those  that 
seek  Thy  kingdom  and  Thy  righteousness.  Behold, 
O  Lord  my  God,  wherein  is  my  desire.  The  wicked 
have  told  me  of  delights,  but  not  such  as  Thy  law, 
0  Lord.  Behold  wherein  is  my  desire.  Behold, 
Father,  behold,  and  see  and  approve ;  and  be  it 
pleasing  in  the  sight  of  Thy  mercy,  that  I  may  find 
grace  before  Thee,  that  the  inward  parts  of  Thy 
words  be  opened  to  me  knocking.  I  beseech  by  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  Son,  the  Man  of  Thy  right 
hand,  the  Son  of  Man,  whom  Thou  hast  established 
for  Thyself,  as  Thy  Mediator  and  ours,  through 
Whom  Thou  soughtest  us  who  did  not  seek  Thee, 
but  soughtest  us  that  we  might  seek  Thee  ;  Thy 
Word,  through  Whom  Thou  madest  all  things,  and 
among  them,  me  also  ;  Thy  Only  Begotten,  through 
Avhom  Thou  calledst  to  adoption  the  believing  peo- 
ple, and  therein  me  also,  —  I  beseech  Thee  by  Him, 
who  sitteth  at  Thy  right  hand,  and  intercedeth  with 
Thee  for  us,  in  Whom  are  hidden  all  the  treasures 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge.  Him  do  I  seek  in  Thy 
books.  Of  Him  did  Moses  write.  This  saith  He 
Himself;  this  saith  the  Truth.1 

l  John  v.  46. 


304  The  meaning  of  Moses. 

III.  5.  I  would  hear  and  understand  how,  "  In  the 
Beginning   Thou   madest   the   heaven    and    earth." 
Moses  wrote  this,  wrote  and  departed,  passed  hence 
from  Thee  to  Thee.     Nor  is  he  now  before  me  ;  for 
if  he  were,  I  would   hold   him,  and  ask  him,  and 
beseech  him  by  Thee  to  open  these  things  unto  me, 
and  would  lay  the  ears  of  my  body  to  the  sounds 
bursting  out  of  his  mouth.    And  should  he  speak 
Hebrew,  in  vain  will  it   strike   on   my  senses,  nor 
would  aught  of  it  touch  my  mind ;  but  if  Latin,  I 
should  know  what  he  said.     But  whence  should  I 
know  whether  he   spake   the   truth  ?    Yea,  and  if 
I  knew  this  also,  should  I  know  it  from  him  ?    Truly 
within  me,  within,  in  the  chamber  of  my  thoughts, 
Truth,   Who   is    neither   Hebrew,   nor   Greek,   nor 
Latin,  nor  barbarian,  without   organs   of  voice   or 
tongue,   or  sound    of  syllables,  would  say,  "It  is 
truth ;"   and  I  forthwith  should  say  confidently  to 
that  man  of  Thine,  "  Thou  sayest  truly."   Whereas, 
then,  I  cannot  inquire  of  Moses,  Thee,  Thee  I  be- 
seech, O  Truth,  being  filled  with  Whom,  he  spake 
truth,  Thee,  my  God,  I  beseech,  forgive  my  sins  ;  and 
Thou,  who  gavest  him  to  speak  these  things,  give  to 
me  also  to  understand  them. 

IV.  6.   Behold,  the  heavens  and  the  earth  are; 
they  proclaim   that   they   were   created ;    for   they 
change   and   vary.     Whereas  whatsoever  hath   not 
been  made,  and  yet  is,  hath  nothing  in  it  which  it 
had  not  before  ;  and  this  it  is,  to  change  and  vary. 
They  proclaim,  also,  that  they  made  not  themselves  ; 
"  We  are,  because  we  have  been  made  ;  we  were  not, 


God  does  not  create  from  existing  materials.    305 

therefore,  before  we  were,  so  as  to  make  ourselves?* 
Now  the  evidence  of  the  thing  is  the  voice  of  the 
speakers.  Thou,  therefore,  Lord,  madest  them  ;  who 
art  beautiful,  for  they  are  beautiful ;  who  art  good, 
for  they  are  good ;  who  art,  for  they  are ;  yet  are 
they  not  beautiful,  nor  good,  as  Thou  art,  nor  are 
they  as  Thou  their  Creator  art;  compared  with 
Whom,  they  are  neither  beautiful,  nor  good,  nor  are. 
This  we  know,  thanks  be  to  Thee.  And  our  knowl- 
edge, compared  with  Thy  knowledge,  is  ignorance. 

V.  7.  But  how  didst  Thou  make  the  heaven  and 
the  earth  f  and  what  was  the  engine  of  Thy  so 
mighty  fabric  ?  For  it  was  not  as  a  human  artificer, 
forming  one  body  from  another,  according  to  the  dis- 
cretion of  his  mind,  which  can  in  some  way  invest 
with  such  a  form,  as  it  seeth  in  itself  by  its  inward 
eye.  And  whence  should  he  be  able  to  do  this,  un- 
less Thou  hadst  made  that  mind  ?  for  he  invests 
with  a  form  what  already  exists  and  has  a  being,  as 
clay,  or  stone,  or  wood,  or  gold,  or  the  like.  And 
whence  should  they  be,  hadst  not  Thou  appointed 
them  ?  Thou  madest  the  artificer's  body  ;  his  mind 
commanding  his  limbs ;  the  matter  whereof  he 
makes  anything ;  the  apprehension  whereby  to  take 
in  his  art,  and  see  within,  what  he  doth  without ;  tlu', 
sense  of  his  body,  whereby,  as  by  an  interpreter,  he 
may  from  mind  to  matter  convey  that  which  he 
doth,  and  report  to  his  mind  what  is  done  ;  that  his 
mind  may  consult  the  truth,  which  presideth  over  it, 
whether  it  be  well  done  or  no.  All  these  praise 
Thee,  the  Creator  of  all.  But  how  dost  Thou  make 


306     God  does  not  create  from  cxif-tincf  materials. 

• 

them  ?  how,  O  God,  didst  Thou  make  heaven  and 
earth  ?  Verily,  neither  in  the  heaven,  nor  in  the 
earth,  didst  Thou  make  heaven  and  earth :  nor  in 
the  air,  or  waters,  seeing  these  also  belong  to  the 
heaven  and  the  earth  ;  nor  in  the  whole  world  didst 
Thou  make  the  whole  world  ;  'because  there  was  no 
place  where  to  make  it,  before  it  was  made,  that  it 
might  be.  Nor-  didst  Thou  hold  anything  in  Thy 
hand,  whereof  to  make  heaven  and  earth.  For 
whence  shouldest  Thou  have  this,  which  Thou  hadst 
not  made,  thereof  to  make  anything?  For  what  is,, 
but  because  Thou  art  ?  Therefore  TJiou  spakest, 
and  they  were  made,  and  in  Thy  Word  Thou  mod- 
est them. 

VI.  8.  But  how  didst  Thou  speak?  In  the 
way  that  the  voice  came  out  of  the  cloud,  saying, 
This  is  my  beloved  Son?1  For  that  voice  passed  by 
and  passed  away,  began  and  ended ;  the  syllables 
sounded  and  passed  away,  the  second  after  the  first, 
the  third  after  the  second,  and  so  forth  in  order,  un- 
til the  last  after  the  rest,  and  silence  after  the  last. 
Whence  it  is  abundantly  clear  and  plain  that  the 
motion  of  a  creature  expressed  it,  itself  temporal, 
serving  Thy  eternal  will.  And  these  Thy  words, 
created  for  a  time,  the  outward  ear  reported  to  the 
intelligent  soul,  whose  inward  ear  lay  listening  to 
Thy  Eternal  Word.  But  she  compared  these  words 
sounding  in  time,  with  Thy  Eternal  Word  in  silence, 
and  said,  "  It  is  different,  far  different.  These  words 
are  far  beneath  me,  nor  are  they,  because  they  flee 

l  Matt.  iii.  17,  xvii.  5. 


The  creative  word  not  vocal.  307 

and  pass  away ;  but  the  Word  of  my  Lord  abideth 
above  me  forever"  If,  then,  in  sounding  and  passing 
words  Thou  saidst  that  heaven  and  earth  should  be 
made,  and  so  madest  lieaven  and  earth,  there  was 
a  corporeal  creature  before  heaven  and  earth,  by 
whose  motions  in  time  that  voice  might  take  his 
course  in  time.  But  there  was  nought  corporeal  be- 
fore heaven  and  earth;  or  if  there  were,  surely  Thou 
hadst,  without  such  a  passing  voice,  created  that 
whereof  to  make  this  passing  voice,  by  which  to  say, 
Let  the  heaven  and  the  earth  be  made.  For  whatso- 
ever that  were,  whereof  such  a  voice  were  made,  un- 
less by  Thee  it  were  made,  it  could  not  be  at  all. 
By  what  Word  then  didst  Thou  speak,  that  a  sub- 
stance might  be  made,  whereby  these  words  again 
might  be  made  ? 

VII.  9.  Thou  callest  us  then  to  understand  the 
Word,  God  with  Thee  God,  Which  is  spoken  eter- 
nally, and  by  It  are  all  things  spoken  eternally.  For 
what  was  spoken  was  not  spoken  successively,  one 
thing  concluded  that  the  next  might  be  spoken,  but 
all  things  together  and  eternally.  Else  have  we 
time  and  change ;  and  not  a  true  eternity  nor  true 
immortality.  This  I  know,  O  my  God,  and  give 
•  thanks.  I  know,  I  confess  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  and 
with  me  doth  know  and  bless  Thee,  whoso  is  not 
unthankful  to  assured  Truth.  We  know,  Lord,  we 
know;  since,  inasmuch  as  anything  is  not,  which  was, 
and  is,  which  was  not,  so  far  forth  it  dieth  and  aris- 
eth.  Nothing  then  of  Thy  Word  doth  give  place  or 
succeed,  because  It  is  truly  immortal  and  eternal. 


308  The  eternal  Word 

And  therefore  unto  the  Word  coeternal  with  Thee 
Thou  dost  at  once  and  eternally  say  all  that  Thou 
dost  say ;  and  whatever  Thou  sayest  shall  be  made, 
is  made ;  nor  dost  Thou  make,  otherwise  than  by 
saying ;  and  yet  are  not  all  things  made  together,  or 
everlasting,  which  Thou  makest  by  saying. 

VIII.  10.  Why,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  Lord  my 
God  ?  I  see  it  in  a  way ;  but  how  to  express  it,  I 
know  not,  unless  it  be,  that  whatsoever  begins  to  be, 
and  leaves  off  to  be,  begins  then,  and  leaves  off 
then,  when  in  Thy  eternal  Reason  it  is  known,  that 
it  ought  to  begin  or  leave  off;  in  which  Reason  It- 
self, nothing  beginneth  or  leaveth  off.  This  is  Thy 
Word,  which  is  also  "  the  Beginning,  because  also  It 
spedketh  unto  us"1  Thus,  in  the  Gospel,  He  speaketh 
through  the  flesh ;  and  this  sounded  outwardly  in 
the  ears  of  men,  that  it  might  be  believed,  and 
sought  inwardly,  and  found  in  the  eternal  Verity ; 
where  the  good  and  only  Master  teacheth  all  His 
disciples.  There,  Lord,  hear  I  Thy  voice  speaking 
unto  me  ;  because  He  speaketh  unto  us,  Who  teach- 
eth us.  But  he  that  teacheth  us  not,  though  He 
speaketh,  to  us  He  speaketh  not.  Who  now  teach- 
eth us,  but  the  unchangeable  Truth  ?  for  even  when 
we  are  admonished  through  a  changeable  creature, 
we  are  but  led  to  the  unchangeable  Truth ;  where 
we  learn  truly,  while  we  stand  and  hear  Him,  and 
rejoice  greatly  because  of  the  Bridegroom 's  voice, 
restoring  us  to  Him,  from  Whom  we  are.  And  He 
is  therefore  the  Beginning,  because  unless  He  abide, 

l  John  viii.  25. 


is  the  Creator.  309 


there  should  not  be  whither  to  return,  when  we 
went  astray.  But  when  we  return  from  error,  it  is 
through  knowing  that  we  return  ;  and  that  we  may 
know,  He  teacheth  us,  because  He  is  the  Beginning , 
and  spedketh  unto  us. 

IX.  11.  In  this  Beginning,  O  God,  hast  Thou 
made  heaven  and  earth,  in  Thy  Word,  in  Thy  Son,  in 
Thy  Power,  in  Thy  "Wisdom,  in  Thy  Truth  ;  won- 
drously  speaking,  and  wondrously  making.  Who 
shall  comprehend  ?  Who  declare  it  ?  What  is  that 
which  gleams  through  me,  and  strikes  my  heart 
without  hurting  it,  and  I  shudder  and  kindle  ?  I 
shudder,  inasmuch  as  I  am  unlike  it ;  I  kindle,  inas- 
much as  I  am  like  it.  It  is  Wisdom,  Wisdom's  self 
which  gleameth  through  me ;  disparting  my  cloudi- 
ness which  yet  again  mantles  over  me,  shrinking 
from  it,  through  the  darkness  which  for  my  punish- 
ment gathers  upon  me.  For  my  strength  is  brought 
down  in  need,  so  that  I  cannot  support  my  blessings, 
till  Thou,  Lord,  Who  hast  been  gracious  to  all  mine 
iniquities,  shalt  heal  all  my  infirmities.  For  Thou 
shalt  also  redeem  my  life  from  corruption,  and 
crown  me  with  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies, 
and  shalt  satisfy  my  desire  with  good  things,  be- 
cause my  youth  shall  be  renewed  like  an  eaglets* 
For  in  hope  ice  are  saved,  wherefore  ice  through  pa- 
tience wait  for  Thy  promises.  Let  him  that  is  able, 
hear  Thee  inwardly  discoursing.  I  will  boldly  cry 
out  of  Thy  oracle,  How  wonderful  are  Thy  Works, 
0  Lord,  in  Wisdom  hast  Thou  made  them  all? 

1  Ts.  ciii.  3  sq  2  Ps.  civ.  24. 


310  The  difference  between 

And  this  Wisdom  is  the  Beginning,  and  in  that  Be- 
ginning didst  Thou  make  heaven  and  earth. 

X.  12.   Lo,  are  they  not  full  of  their  old  leaven, 
who  say  to  us,  "  What  was  God  doing  before  He 
made  heaven  and  earth?"    "For  if  (say  they)  lie 
were  unemployed  and  wrought  not,  why  does  He 
not  also  henceforth,  and  forever,  as  He  did  hei'eto- 
fore  ?     For  did  any  new  motion  arise  in  God,  and  a 
new  will  to  make  a  creature,  which  he  had  never  be- 
fore made,  how  then  would  that  be  a  true  eternity, 
where  there  ariseth  a  will,  which  was  not  ?     For  the 
will  of  God  is  not  a  creature,  but  before  the  crea- 
ture ;   seeing  nothing  could  be  created,  unless  the 
will  of  the  Creator  had  preceded.     The  will  of  God, 
then,  belongeth   to   His   very  Substance.      And   if 
aught  have  arisen  in  God's  Substance,  which  before 
was  not,  that  Substance  cannot  be  truly  called  eter 
nal.     But  if  the  will  of  God  has  been  from  eternity 
that  the  creature  should  be,  why  was  not  the  crea- 
ture from  eternity?" 

XI.  13.   They  who  speak  thus,  do  not  yet  under- 
stand  Thee,  O   Wisdom   of  God,  Light   of  s6uls ; 
understand  not  yet  how  the  things  be  made,  which 
by  Thee,  and  in  Thee  are  made  :  yet  they  strive  to 
comprehend  things  eternal,  whilst  their  heart  flutter- 
eth   between   the   motions   of  things   past  .  and   to 
come,  and  is  still  unstable.     Who  shall  hold  their 
heart,  and  fix  it,  that  it  be  settled  awhile,  and  awhile 
catch  the  glory  of  that  ever-fixed  Eternity,  and  com- 
pare it  with  the  times  which  are  never  fixed,  and  see 
that  it  cannot  be  compared ;  and  that  a  long  time 


time  and  eternity.  311 

cannot  become  long  but  out  of  many  motions  pass- 
ing by,  which  motions  cannot  be  prolonged  alto- 
gether ;  but  that  in  the  Eternal  nothing  passeth,  but 
the  whole  is  present ;  whereas  no  time  is  all  at  once 
present :  and  that  all  time  past  is  driven  on  by  time 
to  come,  and  all  to  come  followeth  upon  the  past ; 
and  all  past  and  to  come,  is  created,  and  flows  out  of 
that  which  is  ever  present?  Who  shall  hold  the 
heart  of  man,  that  it  may  stand  still,  and  see  how 
eternity  ever  still-standing,  neither  past  nor  to  come, 
uttereth  the  times  past  an'd  to  come  ?  Can  my  hand 
do  this,  or  the  hand  of  my  mouth  by  speech  bring 
about  a  thing  so  great  ? 

XII.  14.  See,  I  answer  him  that  asketh,  ""What 
did  God  before  He  made  heaven  and  earth  f"  I  an- 
swer not  as  one  is  said  to  have  done,  merrily  (elud- 
ing the  pressure  of  the  question),  "He  was  preparing 
hell  for  pryers  into  mysteries."  It  is  one  tiling  to  an- 
swer inquiries,  another  to  make  sport  of  inquirers.  I 
answer  not  thus ;  for  rather  had  I  answer,  "I  know 
not,"  what  I  know  not,  than  so  answer  as  to  raise  a 
laugh  at  him  who  asketh  deep  things,  and  gain 
praise  as  one  who  answereth  false  things.  But  I  say 
that  Thou,  our  God,  art  the  Creator  of  every  crea- 
ture ;  and  if  by  the  name  "  heaven  and  earth,"  every 
creature  be  understood,  I  boldly  say,  that  before 
God  made  heaven  and  earth,  He  did  not  make  any- 
thing. For  if  He  made,  what  did  He  make  but  a 
creature  ?  x\nd  would  that  I  knew  whatsoever  I  de- 
sire to  know  to  my  profit,  as  surely  as  I  know  that 


312  Time  is  created. 


no  creature  was  made,  before  there  was  made  any 
creature. 

XIII.  15.  But  if  any  excursive  brain  rove  over 
the  images  of  forepassed  times,  and  wonder  that 
Thou  the  God  Almighty  and  All-creating  and  All- 
supporting,  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  didst  for  in- 
numerable ages  forbear  from  so  great  a  work,  before 
Thou  wouldest  make  it ;  let  him  awake  and  con- 
sider, that  he  wonders  at  false  conceits.  For  whence 
could  innumerable  ages  pass  by,  which  Thou  madest 
not,  Thou  the  Author  and  Creator  of  all  ages  ?  or 
what  times  should  there  be,  which  were  not  made 
by  Thee  ?  or  how  should  they  pass  by,  if  they  never 
were  ?  Seeing,  then,  Thou  art  the  Creator  of  all 
times,  if  any  time  was  before  Thou  madest  heaven 
and  earth,  why  say  they  that  Thou  didst  forego 
working  ?  For  that  very  time  didst  Thou  make, 
nor  could  times  pass  by,  before  Thou  madest  those 
times.  But  if  before  heaven  and  earth  there  was  no 
time,  why  is  it  demanded,  what  Thou  then  didst  ? 
For  there  was  no  "then,"  when  there  was  no  time. 

16.  Nor  dost  Thou  by  time  precede  time:  else 
shouldest  Thou  not  precede  all  times.  But  Thou 
precedest  all  things  past,  by  the  sublimity  of  an 
ever-present  eternity ;  and  'surpassest  all  future  be- 
cause they  are  future,  and  when  they  come,  they 
shall  be  past ;  but  TJiou  art  the  Same,  and  Thy 
years  fail  not.  Thy  years  neither  come  nor  go  ; 
whereas  ours  both  come  and  go,  that  they  all  may 
come.  Thy  years  stand  together,  because  they  do 
stand  ;  nor  are,  departing,  thrust  out  by  coming  years, 


The,  idea  of  time  inexplicable. 


for  they  pass  not  away ;  but  ours  shall  all  be,  when 
they  shall  be  no  more.  Thy  years  are  one  day ;  and 
Thy  day  is  not  daily,  but  to-day,  seeing  Thy  to-day 
gives  not  place  unto  to-morrow,  for  neither  doth  it 
replace  yesterday.  Thy  to-day  is  Eternity,  there- 
fore didst  Thou  beget  The  Coeternal,  to  whom 
Thou  saidst,  This  day  have  I  begotten  Thee.1  Thou 
hast  made  all  things ;  and  before  all  times  Thou  art; 
neither  in  any  time  was  time  not. 

XIV.  17.  At  no  time,  then,  hadst  Thou  not  made 
anything,  because  time  itself  Thou  madest.  And  no 
times  are  coeternal  with  Thee  because  Thou  abid- 
est;  but  if  they  abode,  they  should  not  be  times. 
For  what  is  time  ?  Who  can  readily  and  briefly  ex- 
plain this  ?  Who  can  even  in  thought  comprehend 
it,  so  as  to  utter  a  word  about  it  ?  But  what  in  dis- 
course do  we  mention  more  familiarly  and  know- 
ingly, than  time  ?  And  we  understand,  when  we 
speak  of  it ;  we  understand,  also,  when  we  hear  it 
spoken  of  by  another.  What  then  is  time  ?  If  no 
one  asks  me,  I  know ;  if  I  wish  to  explain  it  to  one 
that  asketh,  I  know  not;  yet  I  say  boldly,  that  I 
know  that  if  nothing  passed  away,  time  past  were 
not ;  and  if  nothing  were  coming,  a  time  to  come 
were  not ;  and  if  nothing  were,  time  present  were 
not.  Those  two  times  then,  past  and  to  come,  how 
are  they,  seeing  the  past  now  is  not,  and  that  to 
come  is  not  yet  ?  But  the  present,  should  it  always 
be  present,  and  never  pass  into  time  past,  verily  it 
should  not  be  time,  but  eternity.  If,  therefore,  time 

IPs.  U.  7;  Heb.  v.  5. 


314  Time  present  is 


present,  in  order  to  be  time  at  all,  conies  into  exist- 
ence only  because  it  passes  into  time  past,  how  can 
we  say  that  that  is  in  existence,  whose  cause  of  be- 
ing is  that  it  shall  not  be  ?  How  is  it  that  we  can- 
not truly  say  that  time  is,  but  because  it  is  tending 
not  to  be  ? 

XV.  18.  And  yet  we  say,  "a  long  time  "  and  a  "short 
time ; "  still,  only  of  time  past  or  to  come.  A  long 
time  past  (for  example)  we  call  an  hundred  years 
since;  and  a  long  time  to  come,  an  hundred  years 
hence.  But  a  short  time  past,  we  call  (suppose)  ten 
days  since;  and  a  short  time  to  come,  ten  days 
hence.  But  in  what  sense  is  that  long  or  short, 
which  is  not?  For  the  past,  is  not  now;  and  the 
future,  is  not  yet.  Let  us  not,  then,  say,  "  It  is  long ; " 
but  of  the  past,  "It  hath  been  long;"  and  of  the  future, 
"  It  will  be  long."  O  my  Lord,  my  Light,  shall  not 
here  also  Thy  Truth  mock  at  man?  For  that  past 
time  which  was  long,  was  it  long  when  it  was  now 
past,  or  when  it  was  yet  present?  For  then  might 
it  be  long,  when  there  was  what  could  be  long;  but 
when  past,  it  was  no  longer;  wherefore,  neither 
could  that  be  long,  which  was  not  at  all.  Let  us  not, 
then,  say,  "Time  past  hath  been  long;"  for  we  shall 
not  find  what  hath  been  long,  seeing  that  since  it 
was  past,  it  is  no  more ;  but  let  us  say,  "*that  present 
time  was  long ; "  because,  when  it  was  present,  it  was 
long.  For  it  had  not  yet  passed  away,  so  as  not  to 
be;  and  therefore  there  was,  what  could  be  long;  but 
after  it  was  past,  that  ceased  also  to  be  long,  which 
ceased  to  be. 


an  indivisible  moment.  315 

19.  Let  us  see;  then,  thou  soul  of  man,  whether 
present  time  can  be  long.;  for  to  thee  it  is  given  to 
feel  and  to  measure  length  of  time.     What  wilt  thou 
answer  me  ?     Are  an  hundred  years,  when  present,  a 
long  time  ?      See  first  whether  an  hundred  years  can 
be  present.     For  if  the  first  of  these  years  be  now 
current,  it  is  present,  but  the  other  ninety  and  nine 
are  to  come,  and  therefore  are  not  yet ;  but  if  the 
second  year  be  current,  one  is  now  past,  another 
present,  the  rest  to  come.     And  so  if  we  assume  any 
middle  year  of  this  hundred  to  be  present,  all  be- 
fore it  are  passed  ;  all  after  it  to  come ;  wherefore  an 
hundred  years  cannot  be  present.     But  see  at  least 
whether  that  one  which  is  now  current,  itself  is  pres- 
ent; for  if  the  current  month  be  its  first,  the  rest  are 
to  come;    if  the  second,  the  first  is  already  past, 
and  the  rest  are  not  yet.   Therefore  neither  is  the  year 
now  current  present ;  and  if  not  present  as  a  whole, 
then  is  not  the  year  present.   For  twelve  months  are 
a  year;  of  which,  whatever  be  the  current  month  is 
present ;   the  rest  past  or  to  come.    Although  neither 
is  that  current  month  present,  but  one  day,  only; 
the  rest  being  to  come,  if  it  be  the  first ;  past,  if  the 
last ;  if  any  of  the  middle,  then  amid  past  and  to  come. 

20.  See    how  the   present   time,  which  alone  we 
found  could  be  called  long,  is  abridged  to  the  length 
scarce  of  one  day.      But  let  us  examine  that  also ; 
because,  neither  is  one  day  present  as  a  whole.     For 
it  is  made  up  of  four  and  twenty  hours  of  night  and 
day;  of  which,  the  first  h^ath  the  rest  to  come;  the 
last  hath  them  past;  and  any  of  the  middle  hath 


316  Contradictions  involved  in 

those  before  it  past,  those  behind  it  to  come.  Yea, 
that  one  hour  passeth  away  iu  flying  particles.  What- 
soever of  it  hath  flown  away,  is  past ;  whatsoever  re- 
maineth,  is  to  come.  If  an  instant  of  time  be  con- 
ceived, which  cannot  be  divided  into  the  smallest 
particles  of  moments,  that  alone  is  it,  which  may  be 
called  present.  Which  yet  flies  with  such  speed 
from  future  to  past,  as  not  to  be  lengthened  out  with 
the  least  stay.  For  if  it  be,  it  is  divided  into  past 
and  future.  The  present  hath  no  space.  Where 
then  is  the  time  which  we  may  call  long?  Is  it  to 
come?  But,  of  this  we  do  not  say,  "It  is  long,"  be- 
cause it  is  not  yet  at  all,  so  as  to  be  long ;  but  we 
say,  "  It  will  be  long."  When,  therefore,  will  it  be 
long?  For  if,  while  it  is  yet  in  the  future,  it  cannot 
be  long  (because  what  does  not  exist  cannot  be  long), 
and,  therefore,  can  be  long  only  when  from  the  fu- 
ture, which  as  yet  is  not,  it  shall  begin  now  to  be,  and 
have  become  present,  that  so  there  should  exist  what 
maybe  long, —  if  this  be  so,  then  does  time  present 
cry  out,  in  the  words  above,  that  it  cannot  be  long. 

XVI.  21.  And  yet,  Lord,  we  perceive  intervals  of 
times,  and  compare  them,  and  say,  some  are  shorter, 
and  others  longer.  We  measure,  also,  how  much 
longer  or  shorter  this  time  is  than  that ;  and  we  an- 
swer, "  This  is  double,  or  treble,  and  that,  but  once, 
or  only  just  so  much  as  that."  But  we  measure  times 
as  they  arc  passing,  by  perceiving  them ;  but  past, 
which  now  are  not,  or  the  future,  which  are  not  yet, 
who  can  measure?  unless  a  man  shall  presume  to  say, 
that  can  be  measured  which  is  not.  When  the  time 


the  idea  of  time.  317 


is  passing,  it  may  be  perceived  and  measured ;  but 
when  it  is  past,  it  cannot,  because  it  is  not. 

XVII.  22.  I  ask,  Father,  I  affirm  not;  O  my  God, 
rule  and  guide  me.     Who  will  tell  me  that  there 
are  not  three  times  (as  we  learned  when  boys,  and 
taught  boys),  past,  present,  and  future,  but  only  one, 
the  present,  because  those  two  are  not?    Or  are  they 
also ;   and  when  from  future   it   becometh   present, 
doth  it  come  out  of  some  secret  place;  and  so,  when 
retiring,  from  present  it  becometh  past  ?     For  where 
did  they,  who  foretold  things  to  come,  see  them,  if 
as  yet  they  be  not?     For  that  which  is  not,  cannot 
be  seen.    And  they  who  relate  things  past,  could  not 
relate  them,  if  in  mind  they  did  not  discern  them, 
and  if  they  were  not,  they  could  no  way  be   dis- 
cerned.    Things  then  past  and  to  come  are. 

XVIII.  23.  Permit  me,  Lord,  to  seek  further.     O 
my  Hope,  let  not  my  purpose  be  confounded.     For 
if  times  past  and  to  come  be,  I  would  know  where 
they  be.     Which  yet  if  I  cannot,  yet  I  know,  \vhere- 
ever  they  be,  they  are  not  there  as  future,  or  past, 
but  present.     For  if  there  also  they  be  future,  they 
are  not  yet  there ;  if  there  also  they  be  past,  they  are 
no  longer  there.     Wheresoever  then  is  whatsoever 
is,  it  is  only  as  present.      Although  when  past  facts 
are  related,  there  are  drawn  out  of  the  memory,  not 
the   things  themselves  which   are  past,  but  words, 
which,  conceived  by  the  images  of  the  things,  they, 
in  passing,  have  through  the  senses  left  as  traces  in* 
the  mind.     Thus  my  childhood,  which  now  is  not,  is 
in  time  past,  which  now  is  not ;  but  now  when  I  re- 

23 


318         Past  and  future  conceived  as  present. 

call  its  image,  and  tell  of  it,  I  behold  it  in  the  present, 
because  it  is  still  in  my  memory.  Whether  there  be  a 
like  cause  of  foretelling  things  to  come  also,  so  that  of 
things  which  as  yet  are  not,  the  images  may  be  per- 
ceived before  already  existing,  I  confess,  O  my  God, 
I  know  not.  This  indeed  I  know,  that  we  generally 
think  before  on  our  future  actions,  and  that  that  fore- 
thinking  is  present,  but  the  action  whereof  we  fore- 
think  is  not  yet,  because  it  is  to  come.  Which,  when 
we  have  set  upon,  and  have  begun  to  do  what  we 
were  forethinking,  then  shall  that  action  be;  because 
then  it  is  no  longer  future,  but  present. 

24.  Which  way  soever,  then,  this  secret  fore-pe» 
ceiving  of  things  to  come  be,  that  only  can  be  seen 
which  is.  But  what  now  is,  is  not  future,  but  pres- 
ent. When,  then,  things  to  come  are  said  to  be  seen, 
it  is  not  themselves,  which  as  yet  are  not  (that  is, 
which  are  to  be),  but  their  causes,  perchance,  or  signs, 
are  seen,"  which  already  are.  Therefore  they  are  not 
future  but  present  to  those  who  now  see  that  from 
which  the  future,  being  fore-conceived  in  the  mind,  is 
foretold.  Which  fore-conceptions  again  now  are ; 
and  those  who  foretell  those  things,  do  behold  the 
conceptions  present  before  them.  Let  now  the  nu- 
merous variety  of  things  furnish  me  some  example. 
I  behold  the  daybreak,  I  foretell  that  the  sun  is  about 
to  rise.  What  I  behold,  is  present;  what  I  fore-sig- 
nify, to  come  ;  not  the  sun,  which  already  is;  but  the 
.sun-rising,  which  is  not  yet.  And  yet  did  I  not  in 
my  mind  imagine  the  sun-rising  itself  (as  now  while 
I  speak  of  it),  I  could  not  foretell  it.  But  neither  is 


God '«  foreknowledge  inexplicable.  319 

that  day-break,  which  I  discern  in  the  sky,  the  sun- 
rising,  although  it  goes  before  it ;  nor  that  imagina- 
tion of  my  mind  ;  which  two  are  seen  now  present, 
that  the  other  which  is  to  be  may  be  foretold.  Fu- 
ture things  then  are  not  yet ;  and  if  they  be  not  yet, 
they  are  not ;  and  if  they  are  not,  they  cannot  be 
seen ;  yet  foretold  they  may  be  from  things  present, 
which  are  already,  and  are  seen.. 

XIX.  25.  Thou,  then,  Ruler  of  Thy  creation,  by 
what  way  dost  Thou  teach  souls  things  to  come? 
For  Thou  didst  teach  Thy  Prophets.    By  what  way 
dost  Thou,  to  Whom  nothing  is  to  dome,  teach  things 
to  come ;  or,  rather,  concerning  the  future,  dost  teach 
things  present  ?     For,  what  is  not,  cannot  be  taught. 
Too  far  is  this  way  out  of  my  ken :  it  is  too  mighty 
for  me,  I  cannot  attain  unto  it /  but  from  Thee  I 
can,  when  Thou  shalt  vouchsafe  it,  O  sweet  Light  of 
my  hidden  eyes. 

XX.  26.  What  now  is  clear  and  plain  is,  that 
neither  things  to  come  nor  past  are.     Nor  is  it  prop- 
erly said,  "  There  be  three  times,  past,  present,  and  to 
come : "  yet   perchance  it  might   be   properly  said, 
"There  be  three  times;  a  present  of  things  past,  a 
present  of  things  present,  and  a  present  of  things  fu- 
ture."    For  these  three  do  exist,  in  some  sort,  in  the 
soul,  but  otherwise  do  I  not  see  them  :   a  present  of 
things  past,  memory;   a  present  of  things  present, 
sight ;    a  present  of  things  future,  expectation.     If 
thus  we  be  permitted  to  speak,  I  see  three  times,  and 
I  confess  there  are  three.     Let  it  be  said,  too,  "There 
be  three  times,  past,  present,  and  to  come,"  in  our  in- 


320  How  time  is  measured. 

correct  way.  See,  I  object  not,  nor  gainsay,  nor  find 
fault,  if  what  is  so  said  be  but  understood,  that  nei 
ther  what  is  to  be,  now  is,  nor  what  is  past.  For 
there  are  but  few  things  which  we  speak  properly, 
most  things  improperly;  still  the  things  intended  arc 
understood. 

XXI.  27.  I  said  then  even  now,  we  measure  times 
as  they  pass,  in  order  to  be  able  to  say,  this  time  is 
twice  so  much  as  that  one;  or,  this  is  just  so  much 
as  that;  and  so  of  any  other  part  of  time  which  is 
measurable.  Wherefore,  as  I  said,  we  measure  times 
as  they  pass.  And  if  any  should  ask  me,  "  How  know- 
est  Thou?"  I  might  answer,  "I  know  that  we  do 
measure,  nor  can  we  measure  things  that  are  not; 
and  things  past .  and  to  come  are  not."  But  time 
present  how  do  we  measure,  seeing  it  hath  no  space  ? 
It  is  measured  while  passing,  but  when  it  shall  have 
passed,  it  is  not  measured ;  for  there  will  be  nothing 
to  be  measured.  But  whence,  by  what  way,  and 
whither  passes  it,  while  it  is  a  measuiing?  whence, 
but  from  the  future?  which  way  but  through  the 
present?  whither,  but  into  the  past?  From  that, 
therefore,  which  is  not  yet,  through  that,  which  hath 
no  space,  into  that,  which  now  is  not.  Yet  what  do 
we  measure,  if  not  time  in  some  space?  For  we  do 
not  say  single,  and  double,  and  triple,  and  equal,  or 
any  other  like  way  that  we  speak  of  time,  except  of 
spaces  of  times.  In  what  space,  then,  do  we  measure 
time  passing?  In  the  future,  into  which  it  passes? 
But  what  is  not  yet,  we  measure  not.  Or  in  the 
present,  through  which  it  passes?  But  no  space, 


Augustine  prays  for  light.  321 

we  do  not  measure.  Or  in  the  past,  to  which  it 
passes  ?  But  neither  do  we  measure  that  which  now 
is  not. 

XXII.  28."  My  soul  is  on  fire  to  know  this  most 
intricate  enigma.  Shut  it  not  up,  O  Lord  my  God, 
good  Father ;  through  Christ  I  beseech  Thee,  do  not 
shut  up  these  usual,  yet  hidden  things  from  my  desire, 
that  it  be  hindered  from  piercing  into  them ;  but  let 
them  dawn  through  Thy  enlightening  mercy,  O  Lord. 
Whom  shall  I  inquire  of  concerning  these  things? 
and  to  whom  shall  I  more  fruitfully  confess  my  igno- 
rance, than  to  Thee,  to  Whom  these  my  studies,  so 
vehemently  kindled  towards  Thy  Scriptures,  are  not 
so  troublesome?  Give  what  I  love;  for  I  do  love, 
and  this  hast  Thou  given  me.  Give,  Father,  Who 
truly  knowest  to  give  good  gifts  unto  Thy  children. 
Give,  because  I  have  taken  upon  me  to  know,  and 
trouble  is  before  me  until  Thou  openest  it.  By 
Christ,  I  beseech  Thee,  in  His  Name,  Holy  of  Holies, 
let  no  man  disturb  me.  For  I  believed,  and  therefore 
do  I  speak.  This  is  my  hope,  for  this  do  I  live,  that 
I  may  contemplate  the  delights  of  the  Lord.  Be- 
hold, Thou  hast  made  my  days  old,  and  they  pass 
away,  and  how,  I  know  not.  And  we  talk  of  time 
and  time,  and  times  and  times.  "  How  long  time  is 
it  since  he  said  this?"  "how  long  time  since  he  did 
this?"  and,  "how  long  time  since  I  saw  that?"  and, 
"this  syllable  hath  double  time  to  that  single  short 
syllable."  These  words  we  speak,  and  these  we  hear, 
and  are  understood,  and  understand.  Most  manifest 
and  ordinary  they  are,  and  the  self-same  things  again 


322  Time  is  not  motion. 

are  but  too  deeply  hidden,  and  the  discovery  of  them 
were  new. 

XXIII.  26.  I  heard  once  from  a  learned  man,  that 
the  motions  of  the  sun,  moon  and  stars-  constituted 
time,  and  I  assented  not.  For  why  should  not, 
rather,  the  motions  of  all  bodies  be  times?  Or,  if  the 
lights  of  heaven  should  cease,  and  a  potter's  wheel 
run  round,  would  there  be  no  time  by  which  we 
might  measure  those  whirlings,  and  say,  that  either 
it  moved. with  equal  pauses,  or  if  it  turned  some- 
times slower,  otherwise  quicker,  that  some  rounds 
were  longer,  others  shorter?  Or,  while  we  were  say- 
ing this,  should  we  not  also  be  speaking  in  time  ? 
And  would  there  not  be  in  our  words,  some  sylla- 
bles short,  others  long,  because  those  sounded  in  a 
shorter  time,  these  in  a  longer  ?  God  grant  to  men 
to  see  in  a  small  thing,  notices  common  to  things 
great  and  small.  The  stars  and  lights  of  heaven  are 
also  for  signs,  and  for  seasons,  and  for  years  and  for 
days;  they  are ;  yet  neither  should  I  say  that  the 
going  round  of  that  wooden  wheel  was  a  day,  nor 
yet  he,  that  it  was  therefore  no  time. 

30.  I  desire  to  know  the  force  and  nature  of  time, 
by  which  we  measure  the  motions  of  bodies,  and  say, 
for  example,  "  This  motion  is  twice  as  long  as  that." 
For  I  ask,  seeing  "day"  denotes  not  the  stay  only  of 
the  sun  upon  the  earth  (according  to  which,  day  is 
one  thing,  night  another),  but  also  its  whole  circuit 
from  east  to  east  again  (according  to  which,  we  say, 
"  there  passed  so  many  days,"  the  night  being  inclu- 
ded when  we  say,  "so  many  days,"  and  the  nights  not 


Time  is  an  extension,  or  duration.  323 

reckoned  apart),  —  seeing  then  a  day  is  completed  by 
the  motion  of  the  sun,  and  by  his  circuit  from  east  to 
east  again,  I  ask,  does  the  motion  alone  make  the 
day,  or  the  stay  in  which  that  motion  is  completed, 
or  both  ?  For,  if  the  first  be  the  day,  then  should  we 
have  a  day,  although  the  sun  should  finish  that  course 
in  so  small  a  space  of  time  as  one  hour  comes  to.  If 
the  second,  then  should  not  that  make  a  day,  if  be- 
tween one  sun-rise  and  another  there  were  but  so 
short  a  stay  as  one  hour  comes  to ;  but  the  sun  must 
go  four  and  twenty  times  about  to  complete  one 
day.  If  both,  then  neither  could  that  be  called  a 
day,  if  the  sun  should  run  his  whole  round  in  the 
space  of  one  hour ;  nor  that,  if,  while  the  sun  stood 
still,  so  much  time  should  overpass,  as  the  sun  usu- 
ally makes  his  whole  course  in,  from  morning  to 
morning.  I  will  not,  therefore,  now  ask  what  that 
is  which  is  called  day ;  but,  what  time  is,  whereby 
we,  measuring  the  circuit  of  the  sun,  should  say 
that  it  was  finished  in  half  the  time  it  was  wont,  if 
so  be  it  was  finished  in  so  small  a  space  as  twelve 
hours ;  and  comparing  both  times,  should  call  this  a 
single  time,  that  a  double  time ;  even  supposing  the 
sun  to  run  his  round  from  east  to  east,  sometimes  in 
that  single,  sometimes  in  that  double  time.  Let  no 
man,  then,  tell  me  that  the  motions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  constitute  times  because,  when  at  the  prayer 
of  one  the  sun  had  stood  still  till  he  could  achieve 
his  victorious  battle,  the  sun  stood  still,  but  time  went 
on.  For  in  its  own  allotted  space  of  time  was  that 


324  Time  is  not  motion. 

battle  waged  and  ended.1  I  perceive  time,  then,  to  be 
a  certain  extension.  But  do  I  perceive  it,  or  seem  to 
perceive  it?  Thou,  Light  and  Truth,  wilt  show  me. 
XXIV.  31.  Dost  Thou  bid  me  assent,  if  any  de- 
fine time  to  be  "motion  of  a  body?  "  Thou  dost  not 
bid  me.  For  that  no  body  is  moved,  but  in  time,  I 
hear;  this  Thou  sayest;  but  that  the  motion  of  a 
body  is  time,  I  hear  not ;  Thou  sayest  it  not.  For 
when  a  body  is  moved,  I  by  time  measure  how  lonji 
it  moves,  from  the  time  it  began  to  move,  until  it  left 
oif.  And  if  I  did  not  see  whence  it  began,  and  it 
continue  to  move  so  that  I  see  not  when  it  ends,  I 
cannot  measure,  save  perchance  from  the  time  I  be- 
gan to  see,  until  I  cease  to  see.  And  if  I  look  long, 
I  can  only  pronounce  it  to  be  a  long  time,  but  not 
how  long;  because  when  we  say  "how  long,"  we  do 
it  by  comparison;  as,  "this  is  as  long  as  that,"  or 
"this  twice  so  long  as  that,"  or  the  like.  But  when 
we  can  mark  the  distances  of  the  places,  whence  and 
whither  goeth  the  body  moved,  or  its  parts,  if  it 
moved  as  in  a  lathe,  then  can  we  say  precisely  in 
how  much  time  the  motion  of  that  body  or  its  part, 
from  this  place  unto  that,  was  finished.  Seeing, 
therefore,  the  motion  of  a  body  is  one  thing,  that  by 
which  we  measure  how  long  it  is,  another ;  who  sees 
not,  which  of  the  two  is  rather  to  be  called  time? 
And  if  a  body  sometimes  moves,  and  sometimes 
stands  still,  then  we  measure  not  its  motion  only,  but 
its  standing  still,  too,  by  time ;  and  we  say,  "  it  stood 
still  as  much  as  it  moved;"  or,  "it  stood  still  twice 

1  Joshua  x.  12  8q. 


Augustine  prays  for  illumination.          325 

or  thrice  as  long  as  it  moved;"  or  any  other  space 
which  our  measuring  hath  either  ascertained,  or 
guessed ;  more  or  less,  as  we  used  to  say.  Time, 
then,  is  not  the  motion  of  a  body. 

XXV.  32.  And  I  confess  to  Thee  O  Lord,  that  I 
yet  know  not  what  time  is ;  and  again  I  confess  unto 
Thee,  O  Lord,  that  I  know  that  I  speak  this  in  time, 
lUid  that  having  long  spoken  of  time,  that  very  "long" 
is  not  long,  but  by  the  pause  of  time.      How  then 
know  I  this,  seeing  I  know  not  what  time  is  ?  or  is 
it  perchance  that  I  know  not  how  to  express  what  I 
know  ?     Woe  is  me,  that  do  not  even  know  what  I 
do  not  know.     Behold,  O  my  God,  before  Thee  I  lie 
not;   but  as  I  speak,  so  is  my  heart.     Thou  shall 
light  my  candle;   Thou,  0  Lord  my  God,  wilt   en- 
lighten, my  darkness. 

XXVI.  3'3.   Does  not  my  soul  most  truly  confess 
unto  Thee  that  I  do  measure  times?      Do  I  then 
measure,  O  my  God,  and  know  not  what  I  measure  ? 
I  measure  the  motion  of  a  body  in  time;   and  the 
time  itself  do  I  not  measure  ?     Or  could  I  indeed 
measure  the  motion  of  a  body,  how  long  it  were,  and 
in  how  long  space  it  could  come  from  this  place  to 
that,  without   measuring   the   time   in   which   it   is 
moved?    This  same  time,  then,  how  do  I  measure  ?  do 
we  by  a  shorter  time  measure  a  longer,  as  by  the  space 
.of  a  cubit,  the  space  of  a  rood?  for  so  indeed  we  seem 
by  the  space  of  a  short  syllable,  to  measure  the  space 
of  a  long  syllable,  and  to  say  that  this  is  double  the 
other.     Thus  measure  we  the  spaces  of  stanzas  by 
the  spaces  of  the  verses,  and  the  spaces  of  the  verse 


326  Short  times  measure  long  times. 

by  the  spaces  of  the  feet,  and  the  spaces  of  the  feet 
by  the  spaces  of  the  syllables,  and  the  spaces  of  long 
by  the  spaces  of  short  syllables,  not  measuring  by  pa- 
ges (for  then  we  measui-e  spaces,  not  times) ;  but 
when  we  utter  the  words  and  they  pass  by,  we  say, 
"  It  is  a  long  stanza,  because  composed  of  so  many 
verses ;  long  verses,  because  consisting  of  so  many 
feet ;  long  feet,  because  prolonged  by  so  many  sylla- 
bles ;  a  long  syllable,  because  double  to  a  short  one." 
But  neither  do  we  this  way  obtain  any  certain  meas- 
ure of  time ;  because  it  may  be  that  a  shorter  verse, 
pronounced  more  fully,  may  take  up  more  time 
than  a  longer,  pronounced  hurriedly.  And  so  for  a 
verse,  a  foot,  a  syllable.  Whence  it  seemed  to  me, 
that  time  is  nothing  else  than  protraction ;  but  of 
what,  I  know  not.  And  I  wonder  whether  it  be  not 
of  the  mind  itself?  For  what,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  -my 
God,  do  I  measure,  when  I  say,  either  indefinitely, 
"this  is  a  longer  time  than,  that,"  or  definitely,  "this 
is  double  that  ?  "  That  I  measure  time,  I  know ;  and 
yet  I  measure  not  time  to  come,  for  it  is  not  yet ;  nor 
present,  because  it  is  not  protracted  by  any  space  ;  nor 
past,  because  it  now  is  not.  What  then  do  I  meas- 
ure ?  Times  passing,  not  past  ?  for  so  I  said. 

XXVII.  34.  Courage,  my  mind,  and  press  on 
mightily.  God  is  our  helper,  He  made  w.s,  and  not 
we  ourselves.  Press  on  where  truth  begins  to  dawn. 
Suppose,  now,  the  voice  of  a  body  begins  to  sound, 
and  does  sound,  and  sounds  on,  and  list,  it  ceases ;  it 
is  silence  now,  and  that  voice  is  past,  and  is  no  more 
a  voice.  Before  it  sounded,  it  was  to  come,  and 


Difficulties  and  contradictions.  327 

could  not  be  measured,  because  as  yet  it  was  not,  and 
now  it  cannot,  because  it  is  no  longer.  Then,  there- 
fore, while  it  sounded,  it  might ;  because  there  then 
was  what  might  be  measured.  But  yet  even  then  it 
was  not  at  a  stay ;  for  it  was  passing  on,  and  passing 
away.  Could  it  be  measured  the  rather,  for  that  ? 
For,  while  passing,  it  was  being  extended  into  some 
space  of  time,  so  that  it  might  be  measured,  since  the 
present  hath  no  space.  If,  therefore,  then  it  might, 
then,  lo,  suppose  another  voice  hath  begun  to  sound, 
and  still  soundeth  in  one  continued  tenor,  without 
any  interruption  ;  let  us  measure  it  while  it  sounds ; 
seeing  when  it  hath  left  sounding,  it  will  then  be 
past,  and  nothing  left  to  be  measured ;  let  us  meas- 
ure it  verily,  and  tell  how  much  it  is.  But  it  sotmds 
still,  nor  can  it  be  measured  but  from  the  instant  it  be- 
gan in,  unto  the  end  it  left  off  in.  For  the  very  space 
between  is  the  thing  we  measure ;  namely,  from  some 
beginning,  unto  some  end.  "Wherefore,  a  voice  that 
is  not  yet  ended,  cannot  be  measured,  so  that  it  may 
be  said  how  long,  or  short  it  is ;  nor  can  it  be  called 
equal  to  another,  or  double  to  a  single,  or  the  like. 
But  when  ended,  it  no  longer  is.  How  may  it  then 
be  measured  ?  And  yet  we  measure  times ;  but  yet 
neither  those  which  are  not  yet,  nor  those  which  no 
longer  are,  nor  those  which  are  not  lengthened  out  by 
some  pause,  nor  those  which  have  no  bounds.  We 
measure  neither  times  to  come,  nor  past,  nor  present, 
nor  passing ;  and  yet  we  do  measure  times. 

35.   "Deus  Creator  omnium,"  this  verse  of  eight 
syllables  alternates  between  short  and  long  syllables. 


328  Time  is  measured 

The  four  short,  then  (the  first,  third,  fifth,  and  sev- 
enth), are  but  single,  in  respect  of  the  four  long  (the 
second,  fourth,  sixth,  and  eighth).  Every  one  of  the 
latter  hath  a  double  time  to  every  one  of  the  former ; 
I  pronounce  them,  report  on  them,  and  find  it  so,  as 
one's  plain  sense  perceives.  By  plain  sense,  then,  I 
measure  a  long  syllable  by  a  short,  and  I  sensibly  find 
it  to  have  twice  so  much ;  but  when  one  sounds  after 
the  other,  if  the  former  be  short,  the  latter  long,  how- 
shall  I  detain  the  short  one,  and  how,  measuring, 
shall  I  apply  it  to  the  long,  that  I  may  find  this  to 
have  twice  so  much  ;  seeing  the  long  does  not  begin 
to  sound  unless  the  short  leaves  sounding?  And 
that  long  one  itself,  I  do  not  measure  while  present, 
seeing  I  measure  it  not  till  it  be  ended  ?  Now  its 
ending  is  its  passing  away.  What  then  is  it  I  meas- 
ure? where  is  the  short  syllable  by  which  I  meas- 
ure? where  the  long  .which  I  measure?  Both  have 
sounded,  have  flown,  passed  away,  are  no  more; 
and  yet  I  measure,  and  confidently  answer  (so  far  as 
is  presumed  on  a  practised  sense),  that  as  to  space 
of  time  this  syllable  is  but  single,  that  double.  And 
yet  I  could  not  do  this,  unless  they  were  already  past 
and  ended.  It  is  not,  then,  themselves,  which  now 
are  not,  that  I  measure,  but  something  in  my  mem- 
ory, which  there  remains  fixed. 

36.  It  is  in  thee,  my  mind,  that  I  measure  times. 
Interrupt  me  not,  that  is,  interrupt  not  thyself  with 
the  tumults  of  thy  impressions.  In  thee  I  measure 
times ;  the  impression,  which  things  as  they  pass  by 
cause  in  thee,  remains  even  when  they  are  gone ; 


only  when  past.  329 


this  it  is  which  still  present,  I  measure,  and  not  the 
things  which  pass  by  to  make  this  impression.  This 
I  measure,  when  I  measure  times.  Either,  then,  this 
is  time,  or  I  do  not  measure  times.  How  is  it  then, 
when  we  measure  silence,  and  say  that  this  silence 
hath  held  as  long  time  as  did  that  voice  ?  do  we  not 
stretch  out  our  thought  to  the  measure  of  a  voice, 
as  if  it  sounded ;  that  so  we  may  be  able  to  report  of 
the  intervals  of  silence  in  a  given  space  of  time  ?  For 
though  both  voice  and  tongue  be  still,  yet  in  thought 
we  go  over  poems,  and  verses,  and  any  other  discourse, 
or  dimensions  of  motions,  and  report  as  to  the  spaces 
of  times,  how  much  this  is  in  respect  of  that,  no 
otherwise  than  if  vocally  we  did  pronounce  them. 
If  a  man  would  utter  a  lengthened  sound,  and  had 
settled  in  thought  how  long  it  should  be,  he  hath  in 
silence  already  gone  through  a  space  of  time,  and, 
committing  it  to  memory,  begins  to  utter  that  speech, 
which  sounds  on,  until  it  be  brought  unto  the  end 
proposed.  Yea  it  hath  sounded,  and  will  sound ;  for 
so  much  of  it  as  is  finished,  hath  sounded  already, 
and  the  rest  will  sound.  And  thus  passeth  it  on, 
until  the  present  intent  conveys  over  the  future  into 
the  past;  the  past  increasing  by  the  diminution  of 
the  future,  until  by  the  consumption  of  the  future,  all 
is  past. 

XXVIII.  37.  But  how  is  that  future  diminished  or 
consumed,  which  as  yet  is  not?  or  how  that  past  in- 
creased, which  is  now  no  longer,  unless  because  that 
in  the  mind  which  enacts  this,  there  be  three  things 
done  ?  For  it  expects,  it  considers  (attendit),  it  re- 


330  Time  is  measured  in  the  mind. 

members ;  in  such  way  that  that  which  it  expects, 
through  that  which  it  considers,  passes  into  that  which 
it  remembers.  Who  therefore  denies  that -things  to 
come  are  not  as  yet  ?  and  yet,  there  is  in  the  mind  an 
expectation  of  things  to  come.  And  who  denies  past 
things  to  be  now  no  longer?  and  yet  there  is  still  in 
the  mind  a  memory  of  things  past.  And  who  denies 
that  the  present  time  hath  no  space,  because  it  passes 
away  in  a  moment?  and  yet  our  consideration  (at- 
tentio)  continues,  through  which  that  which  shall 
be  present  proceeds  to  become  absent.  It  is  not 
then  future  time,  that  is  long,  for  as  yet  it  is  not ; 
but  a  "  long  future,"  is  "  a  long  expectation  of  the  fu- 
ture." Nor  is  it  time  past,  which  now  is  not,  that  is 
long ;  but  a  "  long  past,"  is  "  a  long  memory  of  the 
paste" 

38.  I  am  about  to  repeat  a  Psalm  that  I  know. 
Before  I  begin,  my  expectation  is  extended  over  the 
whole  ;  but  when  I  have  begun,  how  much  soever  of 
it  I  shall  separate  off  into  the  past,  is  extended  along 
my  memory;  thus  the  life  of  this  action  of  mine  is 
divided  between  my  memory  as  to  what  I  have  re- 
peated, and  expectation  as  to  what  I  am  about  to  re- 
peat; but  "consideration"  (attentio)  is  present  with 
me,  that  through  it,  what  was  future  may  be  con- 
veyed over,  so  as  to  become  past.  Which  the  more 
it  is  done  again  and  again,  so  much  the  more  the  ex- 
pectation being  shortened,  is  the  memory  enlarged; 
till  the  whole  expectation  be  at  length  exhausted, 
when  that  whole  action  being  ended,  shall  have 
passed  into  memory.  And  this  which  takes  place  in 


All  distractions  harmonized  in  God.         331 

the  whole  Psalm,  takes  place  in  each  several  portion 
of  it,  and  each  several  syllable ;  the  same  holds  in 
that  longer  action,  whereof  this  Psalm  may  be  a 
part;  the  same  holds  in  the  whole  life  of  man, 
whereof  all  the  actions  of  man  are  parts;  the  same 
holds  through  the  whole  age  of  the  sons  of  men, 
whereof  all  the  lives  of  men  are  parts. 

XXIX.  39.   But  because  Thy  loving  kindness  is 
better  than  all  lives,  behold,  my  life  is  but  a  distrac- 
tion, and   Tliy  right  hand  upheld  me,  in  my  Lord 
the  Son  of  Man,  the  Mediator  beticixt  Thee,  The 
One,  and  us  many  (many  also  through  our  manifold 
distractions  amid  many  things),  that  by  Him  I  may 
apprehend  in  Whom  I  have  been  apprehended,  and 
may  be  re-collected  from  my  old  conversation,  to  fol- 
low The  One,  forgetting  what  is  behind,  and?  not 
distended,  but  extended,  not  to  things  which  shall  be 
and  shall  pass  away,  but  to  those  things  ichich  are 
before,  not  distractedly  but  intently  follow  on  for  the 
prize  of  my  heavenly  calling  where  I  may  hear  the 
voice  of  Thy  praise,  and  contemplate  Thy  delights, 
ever  coming,  never  passing  away.     But  now  are  my 
years  spent  in  mourning.      And  Thou,  O  Lord,  art 
my  comfort,  my  Father  everlasting.    But  I  have  been 
severed  amid  times,  whose  order  I  know  not;    and 
my  thoughts,  even  the  inmost  bowels  of  my  soul,  are 
rent  and  mangled  with  tumultuous  varieties,  until  I 
flow  together  into  Thee,  purified  and  molten  by  the 
fire  of  Thy  love. 

XXX.  40.  And  now  will  I  stand,  and  become  solid 
in  Thee,  in  my  mould,  Thy  truth  ;  nor  will  I  endure 


332  Time  is  created. 


the  questions  of  men,  who  by  a  penal  disease  thirst 
for  more  than  they  can  contain,  and  say,  "  What  did 
God  before  He  made  heaven  and  earth?"  "  Or,  how 
came  it  into  His  mind  to  make  anything,  having 
never  made  anything  ?  "  Give  them,  O  Lord,  to  be- 
think themselves  what  they  say,  and  to  find  that 
"never"  cannot  be  predicated,  when  "time"  is  not. 
This,  then,  that  He  is  said  "  never  to  have  made ;" 
what  else  is  it  than  to  say,  "in  'no  time'  to  have 
made  ? "  Let  them  see,  therefore,  that  time  cannot 
be -without  created  being,  and  cease  to  speak  that 
vanity.  May  they  also  be  extended  towards  those 
things  which  are  before;  and  understand  Thee  be- 
fore all  times  the  eternal  Creator  of  all  times,  and 
that  no  times  be  coeternal  with  Thee,  nor  any  crea- 
ture, even  if  there  be  any  creature  before  all  times. 

XXXI.  41.  O  Lord  my  God,  what  a  depth  is  that 
recess  of  Thy  mysteries,  and  how  far  from  it  have  the 
consequences  of  my  transgressions  cast  me  !  Heal 
mine  eyes  that  I  may  share  the  joy  of  Thy  light. 
Certainly,  if  there  be  a  mind  gifted  with  such  vast 
knowledge  and  foreknowledge  as  to  know  all  things 
past  and  to  come,  as  I  know  one  well-known  Psalm, 
truly  that  mind  is  passing  wonderful,  and  fearfully 
amazing ;  in  that,  nothing  past,  nothing  to  come  in 
after  ages,  is  any  more  hidden  from  him,  than  when 
I  sung  that  Psalm,  was  hidden  from  me,  what,  and 
how  much  of  it  had  passed  away  from  the  beginning, 
what,  and  how  much  there  "remained  unto  the  end. 
But  far  be  it,  that  Thou,  the  Creator  of  the  universe, 
the  Creator  of  souls  and  bodies,  far  be  it,  that  Thou 


God's  cognition  different  from  man's.  333 

shouldest  in  such  wise  know  all  past  and  to.  come- 
Far,  far  more  wonderfully,  and  far  more  mysteri- 
ously, dost  Thou  know  them.  For  not  as  the  feel- 
ings of  one  who  sings  what  he  knows,  or  hears  some 
well-known  song,  through  expectation  of  the  words 
to  come,  and  the  remembering  of  those  that  are  past, 
are  varied,  and  his  senses  divided,  —  not  so  doth  any 
thing  happen  unto  Thee,  unchangeably  eternal,  that 
is,  the  Eternal  Creator  of  minds.  As,  then,  Thou  in 
the  Beginning  knewest  the  heaven  and  the  earthy 
without  any  variety  of  Thy  knowledge,  so  madest 
Thou  in  the  beginning,  heaven  and  earth,  without 
any  distraction  of  thy  action.  Whoso  understand- 
eth,  let  him  confess  unto  Thee ;  and  whoso  under- 
standeth  not,  let  him  confess  unto  Thee.  Oh,  how 
high  art  Thou !  and  yet  the  humble  in  heart  are  Thy 
dwelling-place  ;  for  Thou  raisest  iip  those  that  are 
bowed  down,  and  they  fall  not,  whose  elevation  Thou 

art. 

24 


THE  TWELFTH  BOOK. 


AUGUSTINE  PROCEEDS  TO  COMMENT  ON  GENESIS  I.  1,  AND  EXPLAINS 
THE  "HEAVEN"  TO  MEAN  THAT  SPIRITUAL,  AND  INCORPOREAL, 
CREATION,  WHICH  CLEAVES  TO  GOD  UNINTERMITTINGLY,  ALWAYS 
BEHOLDING  HIS  COUNTENANCE  —  "EARTH,"  THE  FORMLESS  MATTER 
WHEREOF  THE  CORPOREAL  CREATION  WAS  AFTERWARDS  FORMED  — 
HE  DOES  NOT  REJECT,  HOWEVER,  OTHER  INTERPRETATIONS,  WHICH 
HE  ADDUCES,  BUT  RATHER  CONFESSES  THAT  SUCH  IS  THE  DEPTH 
OF  HOLY  SCRIPTURE,  THAT  MANIFOLD  SENSES  MAY  AND  OUGHT  TO 
BE  EXTRACTED  FROM  IT,  AND  THAT  WHATEVER  TRUTH  CAN  BE 
OBTAINED  FBOM  ITS  WORDS,  DOES,  IN  FACT,  LIE  CONCEALED  IN 

THEM. 


I.  1.  My  heart,  0  Lord,  touched  with  the  words 
of  Thy  holy  Scripture,  is  much  busied,  amid  this 
poverty  of  my  life.  And  therefore,  oftentimes,  is  the 
poverty  of  human  understanding  copious  in  words, 
because  inquiring  hath  more  to  say  than  discovering, 
and  demanding  is  longer  than  obtaining,  and  our 
hand  that  knocks  hath  more  work  to  do  than  our 
hand  that  receives.  But  we  have  the  promise  (who 
shall  make  it  null  ?)  :  If  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be 
against  us?  Ask,  and  ye  shall  have/  seek,  and  ye 
shall  find;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you. 
For  every  one  that  asketh,  receiveth ;  and  he  that 
seeketh,findeth  /  and  to  him  that  knocketh,  shall  it  be 
opened*  These  are  Thine  own  promises ;  and  who 

11  Matt  vii.  7. 


T/te  visible  and  invisible  heavens.  335 

need  fear  to  be  deceived,  when   the  Truth  prom- 
iseth? 

II.  2.  The  lowliness  of  my  tongue  confesseth  unto 
Thy  Highness,  that  Thou  madest  heaven  and  earth; 
this  heaven  which  I  see,  and  this  earth  that  I  tread 
upon,  whence  also  is  this  earth  that  I  bear  about 
me,  Thou  madest  it.     But  where  is  that  heaven  of 
heavens,  O  Lord,  which  we  hear  of  in  the  words  of 
the  Psalm  :   The  heaven  of  heavens  are  the  Lord's; 
but  the  earth  hath  He  given  to  the  children  of  men?1 
Where  is  that  heaven  which  we  see  not,  and,  com- 
pared with  which,  all  this  which  we  see  is  earth? 
For  this  corporeal  whole,  not  being  wholly  every- 
where, hath   in   such  wise  received  its  portion   of 
beauty  in  these  lower  parts,  whereof  the  lowest  is 
this  our  earth;  but  in  comparison  to  that  heaven 
of  heavens,  even  the  heaven  of  our  earth   is  but 
earth  :  yea,  both  these  great  bodies  may  not  absurdly 
be  called  earth,  when  compared  to  that  unknown 
heaven,  which  is  the  lord's,  not  the  sons'  of  men. 

III.  3.  And  now  this  earth  was  invisible  and  with- 
out form,  and  there  was  I  know  not  what  depth  of 
abyss,  upon  which  there  was  no  light,  because  it  had 
no  shape.     Therefore  didst  Thou  command  it  to  be 
written,  that  darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  d«j>, 
—  what  else  than  the  absence  of  light?     For  had 
there  been  light,  where  should  it  have  been  but  by 
being  over  all,  aloft,  and  enlightening?    Where  then 
light  was  not,  what  was  the  presence  of  darkness, 
but  the  absence  of  light  ?    Darkness,  therefore,  was 

1  Ts.  cxv.  16 


336  Trie  primitive  formless  chaos. 

upon  it,  because  light  was  not  upon  it ;  as  where 
sound  is  not,  there  is  silence.  And  what  is  it  to  have 
silence  there,  but  to  have  no  sound  there  ?  Hast  not 
Thou,  O  Lord,  taught  this  soul,  which  confesseth 
unto  Thee  ?  Hast  not  Thou  taught  me,  Lord,  that 
before  Thou  didst  form  and  diversify  this  formless 
matter,  there  was  nothing ;  neither  color,  nor  figure, 
nor  body,  nor  spirit  ?  And  yet  not  altogether  no- 
.  thing ;  for  there  was  a  certain  formlessness,  without 
any  beauty. 

IV.  4.  How  then  should  it  be  called,  that  it  might 
be  in  some   measure   conveyed  to  those  of  duller 
mind,  but   by  some   ordinary  word?      And   what, 
among  all  parts  of  the  world,  can  be  found  nearer  to 
an  absolute  formlessness,  than  earth  and  deep?    For, 
occupying  the  lowest  stage,  they  are  less  beautiful 
than  the  other  higher  parts  are,  transparent  all  and 
shining.     "Wherefore,  then,  may  I  not  conceive  the 
formlessness  of  matter  (which  Thou  hadst  created 
without   beauty,   whereof   to    make    this   beautiful 
world)  to  be  suitably  intimated  unto  men,  by  the 
name  of  earth  invisible  and  without  form. 

V.  5.    So  that  when  thought  seeketh  what  the 
sense  may  conceive  under  this,  and  saith  to  itself, 
"It  is  no  intellectual  form,  as  life,  or  justice,  because 
it  is  the  matter  of  bodies;  nor  object  of  sense,  be- 
cause, being  invisible  and  without  form,  there  was  in 
it  no  object  of  sight  or  sense," — while  man's  thought 
thus  saith  to  itself,  it  may  endeavor  either  to  know 
it,  by  being  ignorant  of  it;   or  to  be  ignorant,  by 
knowing  iu 


Augustine  is  unable  to  conceive  the  formless.     337 

VI.  6.  But  I,  Lord  (if  I  would  by  my  tongue  and 
my  pen  confess  unto  Thee  the  whole  that  Thyself 
hath  taught  me  of  that  matter,  the  name  whereof 
hearing  and  not  understanding,  when  they  who  un- 
derstood it  not  told  me  of  it),  so  conceived  of  it,  as 
having  innumerable  forms,  and  diverse.  And  there- 
fore I  did  not  clearly  conceive  it  at  all.  My  mind 
tossed  up  and  down  foul  and  horrible  "  forms "  out 
of  all  order,  but  yet  "forms;"  and  I  called  it  with- 
out form,  not  because  it  wanted  all  form,  but  be- 
cause it  had  such  as  my  mind  would,  if  presented  to 
it,  turn  from,  as  unwonted  and  jarring,  and  human 
frailness  would  be  troubled  at.  And  still,  that  which 
I  conceived  was  without  form,  not  as  being  deprived 
of  all  form,  but  in  comparison  of  more  beautiful 
forms ;  and  true  reason  did  persuade  me,  that  I  must 
utterly  uncase  it  of  all  remnants  of  form  whatso- 
ever, if  I  would  conceive  matter  absolutely  without 
form;  and  I  could  not;  for  sooner  could  I  imagine 
that  which  should  be  deprived  of  all  form  not  to  be, 
than  conceive  a  thing  betwixt  form  and  nothing, 
neither  formed,  nor  nothing,  a,  formless  almost  noth- 
ing. So  my  mind  gave  over  to  question  thereupon 
with  my  spirit,  it  being  filled  with  the  images  of 
formed  bodies,  and  changing  and  varying  them,  as  it 
willed  ;  and  I  bent  myself  to  the  bodies  themselves, 
and  looked  more  deeply  into  their  changeableness, 
by  which  they  cease  to  be  what  they  have  been,  and 
begin  to  be  what  they  were  not ;  and  this  same  shift- 
ing from  form  to  form,  I  suspected  to  be  through  a 
certain  formless  state,  not  through  a  mere  nothing ; 


338  God  does  not  create  from  his  own 

yet  this  I  longed  to  know,  not  to  suspect  only.  But 
if  my  voice  and  pen  confessed  unto  Thee  the  whole, 
whatsoever  knots  Thou  didst  open  for  me  in  this 
question,  what  reader  would  hold  out  to  take  in  the 
whole  ?  But  my  heart  shall  not  cease  to  give  Thee 
honor,  and  a  song  of  praise,  for  those  things  which 
it  is  not  able  to  express.  The  changeableness  of 
changeable  things  is  itself  capable  of  all  those  forms, 
into  which  these  changeable  things  are  changed. 
But  this  changeableness,  what  is  it  ?  Is  it  soul  ?  Is 
it  body  ?  Is  it  that  which  constituteth  soul  or  body  ? 
If  one  might  use  the  phrase  "  a  nothing  something," 
an  "  is,  is  not,"  I  would  say  this  were  it :  and  yet  in 
some  way  it  even  then  was,  as  being  capable  of  re- 
ceiving these  visible  and  compound  figures. 

VII.  7.  But  whence  had  it  this  degree  of  being, 
but  from  Thee,  from  Whom  are  all  things,  so  far 
forth  as  they  are  ?  but  so  much  the  further  from 
Thee,  as  the  unliker  Thee ;  for  it  is  not  distance  in 
space  which  makes  the  difference.  Thou,  therefore, 
Lord,  Who  art  not  one  in  one  place,  and  otherwise 
in  another,  but  the  Self-same,  and  the  Self-same,  and 
the  Self-same,  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty, didst  in  the  Beginning,  which  is  of  Thee,  in 
Thy  Wisdom,  which  was  born  of  Thine  own  Sub- 
stance, create  something,  and  that  out  of  nothing. 
For  Thou  createdst  heaven  and  earth;  not  out  of 
Thyself;  for  so  should  they  have  been  equal  to 
Thine  Only  Begotten  Son,  and  thereby  to  Thee 
also;  whereas  no  way  were  it  right  that  aught 
should  be  equal  to  Thee,  which  was  not  of  Thee. 


substance,  but  from  nothing.  339 

And  aught  else  beside  Thee  was  there  not,  whereof 
Thou  mightest  create  them,  O  God,  One  Trinity,  and 
Trine  Unity;  and  therefore  out  of  nothing  didst 
Thou  create  heaven  and  earth, — a  great  thing,  and  a 
small  thing;  for  Thou  art  Almighty  and  Good,  to 
make  all  things  good,  even  the  great  heaven^  and  the 
petty  earth.  Thou  wert,  and  nothing  was  there  be- 
sides, out  of  which  Thou  createdst  heaven  and  earth, 
—  things  of  two  sorts;  one  near  Thee,  the  other 
near  to  nothing;  one,  to  which  Thou  alone  should- 
est  be  superior,  the  other,  to  which  nothing  should 
be  inferior. 

VIII.  8.  But  that  Jieaven  of  heavens  was  for  Thy- 
self, 0  Lord;  and  the  earth  which  Thou  gavest  to 
the  sons  of  men,  to  be  seen  and  felt,  was  not  such  as 
we  now  see  and  feel.  For  it  was  invisible,  without 
form,  and  there  was  a  deep,  upon  which  there  was 
no  light;  or  darkness  was  above  the  deep,  that  is, 
more  than  in  the  deep.  Because  this  deep  of  waters, 
visible  now,  hath  even  in  its  depths  a  light  proper 
for  its  nature ;  perceivable  in  some  degree  unto  the 
fishes,  and  creeping  things  in  the  bottom  of  it.  But 
that  whole  deep  was  almost  nothing,  because  hith- 
erto it  was  altogether  without  form;  yet  there  was 
already  that  which  could  be  formed.  For  Thou, 
Lord,  ruadest  the  world  of  a  matter  without  form, 
which,  out  of  nothing,  Thou  madest  next  to  nothing, 
thereof  to  make  those  great  things  which  we  sons  of 
men  wonder  at.  For  very  wonderful  is  this  corpo- 
real heaven ;  the  firmament  between  water  and  water, 
of  which  upon  the  second  day,  after  the  creation  of 


340  The  heaven  of  heavens  is 

light,  Thou  saidst,  Let  it  be  made,  and  it  was  made. 
Which  firmament  Thou  calledst  heaven;  the  heaven, 
that  is,  to  this  earth  and  sea,  which  Thou  madest  the 
third  day,  by  giving  a  visible  figure  to  the  formless 
matter  which  Thou  madest  before  all  days.  For  al- 
ready hadst  Thou  made  an  heaven  before  all  days,1 
but  that  was  the  heaven  of  this  heaven ;  because  In 
the  beginning  Thou  hadst  made  heaven  and  earth. 
But  this  same  earth  which  Thou  madest,  was  form- 
less matter,  because  it  was  invisible  and  without 
form,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  deep,  —  of  which 
invisible  earth  and  without  form,  of  which  formless- 
ness, of  which  almost  nothing,  Thou  mightest  make 
all  these  things  of  which  this  changeable  world  con- 
sists, but  does  not  subsist ;  whose  very  changeable- 
ness  appears  therein,  that  times  can  be  observed  and 
numbered  in  it.  For  times  are  made  by  the  alter- 
ations of  things,  which  result  from  the  variation  of 
the  figures  (species)  which  constitute  the  matter  of 
the  invisible  earth  aforesaid. 

IX.  9.  And  therefore  the  Spirit,  the  Teacher  of 
Thy  servant,  when  it  recounts  Thee  to  have  In  the 
Beginning  created  heaven  and  earth,  speaks  nothing 
of  times,  nothing  of  days.  For  verily  that  heaven 
of  heavens  which  Thou  createdst  in  the  Beginning, 
is  some  intellectual  creature,  which,  although  no 

1  Augustine  here  anticipates  the  modern  geological  exegesis,  which 
places  an  indefinite  space  of  time  between  the  action  designated  in  the 
first  verse  of  Genesis,  and  that  designated  in  the  second  and  succeeding 
verses.  The  first,  or  most  absolute  act  of  creative  power,  is  the  creation 
of  chaos,  "  before  all  [six]  days; "  then  succeeds  the  cosmical  formation 
of  this  chaotic  matter,  iu  the  six  days'  work.  —  ED. 


the  intelligible  world.  341 

ways  coeternal  unto  Thee,  the  Trinity,  yet  partaketh 
of  Thy  eternity,  and  doth  through  the  sweetness  of 
that  most  happy  contemplation  of  Thyself,  strongly 
restrain  its  own  changeableness ;  and,  without  any 
fall  since  its  first  creation,  cleaving  close  unto  Thee, 
is  placed  beyond  all  the  rolling  vicissitudes  of  times. 
Yea,  neither  is  this  very  formlessness  of  the  earth  in- 
visible and  without  form,  numbered  among  the  days. 
For  where  no  figure  nor  order  is,  there  does  nothing 
come  or  go ;  and  where  this  is  not,  there  plainly  are 
no  days,  nor  any  vicissitude  of  spaces  of  times. 

X.  10.  Oh,  let  the  Light,  the  Truth,  the  Light  of 
my  heart,  not  mine  own  darkness,  speak  unto  me.     I 
fell  off  into  that,  and  became  darkened";  but  even 
thence,  even  thence  I  loved  Thee.     I  went  astray, 
and  remembered  Thee.     I  heard  Thy  voice  behind 
me,  calling  to  me  to  return,  and  scarcely  heard  it, 
through  the  tumultuousness  of  the  enemies  of  peace. 
And  now,  behold,  I  return  in  distress,  and  panting 
after  Thy  fountain.     Let  no  man  forbid  me  !  of  this 
will  I  drink,  and  so  live.     Let  me  not  be  my  own 
life ;  from  myself  I  lived  ill ;  death  was  I  to  myself, 
and  I  revive  in  Thee.     Do  Thou  speak  unto  me,  do 
Thou    discourse    unto   me.      I  have   believed   Thy 
Books,  and  their  words  be  most  full  of  mystery. 

XI.  11.  Already  Thou  hast  told  me  with  a  strong 
voice,  O  Lord,  in  mine  inner  ear,  that  Tihou  art  eter- 
nal, Who  only  hast  immortality:  since  Thou  canst 
not  be  changed  as  to  figure  or  motion,  nor  is  Thy 
will  altered  by  times,  because  no  will  which  varies  is 
immortal.     This  is  in  Thy  sight  clear  to  me,  and  let 


342  The  intelligible  world  is 

it  be  more  and  more  clear  to  me,  I  beseech  Thee; 
and  in  the  manifestation  thereof,  let  me  with  so- 
briety abide  under  Thy  wings.  Thou  hast  told  me 
also  with  a  strong  voice,  O  Lord,  in  my  inner  ear, 
that  Thou  hast  made  all  natures  and  substances, 
which  are  not  what  Thyself  is,  and  yet  are ;  that 
that  only  is  not  from  Thee,  which  is  not,  and,  also, 
the  motion  of  the  will  from  Thee  who  art,  unto 
that  which  in  a  less  degree  is,  because  such  motion 
is  transgression  and  sin ;  and  that  no  man's  sin  doth 
either  hurt  Thee,  or  disturb  the  order  of  Thy  gov- 
ernment, first  or  last.  This  is,  in  Thy  sight,  clear 
unto  me,  and  let  it  be  more  and  more  cleared  to  me, 
I  beseech  Thee;  and  in  the  manifestation  thereof, 
let  me  with  sobriety  abide  under  Thy  wings. 

12.  Thou  hast  told  me  also  with  a  strong  voice,  in 
my  inner  ear,  that  neither  is  that  creature  coeternal 
unto  Thyself,  whose  happiness  Thou  only  art,  even 
though  with  a  most  persevering  purity,  drawing  its 
nourishment  from  Thee,  it  should  never  put  forth  its 
natural  mutability ;  and,  although,  Thyself  being 
ever  present  with  it,  it  should  with  its  whole  affec- 
tion keep  itself  to  Thee,  having  neither  future  to 
expect,  nor  conveying  into  the  past  what  it  remem- 
bereth,  neither  altered  by  any  change,  nor  distracted 
into  any  times.  O  blessed  creature  !  if  such  there  be, 
cleaving  unto  Thy  Blessedness ;  blessed  in  Thee,  its 
eternal  Inhabitant  and  its  Enlightener!  I  find  no 
better  name  to  call  the  heaven  of  heavens,  which  is 
the  Lord's,  than  Thine  house,  one  pure  mind  con- 
templating Thy  beatitude,  most  harmoniously  one, 


not  coeternal  with  God.  343 

in  a  settled  peace  of  holy  spirits,  citizens  of  Thy  city 
in  heavenly  places;  far  above  those  heavenly  places 
that  we  see.1 

13.  The   soul,  whose  pilgrimage  is  long  and  far 
away  by  this  may  understand,  if  she  now  thirsts  for 
Thee,  if  her  tears  be  now  become  her  bread,  while  tliey 
daily  say  unto  her,  Where  is  thy  God?  if  she  now 
seeks  of  Thee  one  thing,  and  desires  it,  that  she  may 
dwell  in  Thy  house  all  the  days  of  her  life  (and 
what  is  her  life,  but  Thou  ?  and  what  Thy  days,  but 
Thy  eternity,  for  Thy  years  fail  not,  because  Thou 
art  ever  the  same  f), —  by  this,  then,  may  the  soul 
that  is  able,  understand  how  far  Thou  art,  above  all 
time,  eternal ;   seeing,  Thy  house,  which  at  no  time 
went  into  a  far  country,  although  it  be  not  coeternal 
with  Thee,  yet  by  continually  and  unfailingly  cleaving 
unto  Thee,  suffers  no  changeableness  of  times.     This 
is  in  Thy  sight  clear  unto  me,  and  let  it  be  more  and 
more  cleared  unto  me,  I  beseech  Thee,  and  in  the 
manifestation  thereof,  let  me  with  sobriety  abide  un- 
der Thy  wings. 

14.  There  is,  behold,  I  know  not  what  formlessness 
in  the  changes  of  the  last  and  lowest  creatures.    And 
who  would  tell  me    (unless  one  who,  through  the 
emptiness  of  his  own  heart,  wanders  and  tosses  him- 
self up  and  down  amid  his  own  fancies),  —  who  but 
such  a  one  would  tell  me,  that  if  all  figure  be  so 
wasted  and  consumed  away,  that  there  should  only 
remain   formlessness,  through  which  the   thing  was 
changed  and  turned  from  one  figure  to  another,  it 

l  Compare  XV.  18  infra. 


344       The  cosmos  is  formed  out  of  the  chaos. 

could  exhibit  the  vicissitudes  of  times  ?  Plainly  it 
could  not,  because,  without  variety  of  motions,  there 
are  no  times;  and  no  variety,  where  there  is  no 
figure. 

XII.  15".  These  things  considered,  as  Thou  givest, 
O  my  God,  as  Thou  stirrest  me  up  to  knock,  and  as 
Thou  openest  to  me,  knocking,  I  find  that  Thou  hast 
made  two  things,  not  within  the  compass  of  time, 
neither  of  which  is  coeternal  with  Thee.  One  is  so 
formed,  that,  without  any  ceasing  of  contemplation, 
without  any  interval  of  change,  changeable,  yet  not 
changed,  it  may  thoroughly  enjoy  Thy  eternity  and 
unchangeableness ;  the  other,  so  formless,  that  it  had 
not  that  which  could  be  changed  from  one  form  into 
another,  whether  of  motion,  or  of  repose,  so  as  to  be- 
come subject  unto  time.  But  this  Thou  didst  not 
leave  thus  formless,  because,  before  all  days,  Thou  in 
the  Beginning  didst  create  Heaven  and  Earth;  the 
two  things  that  I  spake  of.  Bat  the  Earth  was  in- 
visible and  without  form,  and  darkness  icas  upon  the 
deep.  In  which  words  is  the  formlessness  conveyed 
unto  us,  who  are  not  able  to  conceive  an  utter  priva- 
tion of  all  form,  without  yet  coming  to  nothing ;  and, 
out  of  this  formlessness,  another  Heaven  was  created, 
together  with  a  visible  and  well-formed  earth,  and 
the  waters  diversely  ordered,  and  all  that  which  in 
the  formation  of  the  world  is  recorded  to  have  been 
created  in  days ;  it  being  of  such  nature,  that  the  suc- 
cessive changes  of  times  may  take  place  in  it,  as  be- 
ing subject  to  appointed  alterations  of  motions  and 
of  forms. 


Distinction  between  '•'"heaven"  and  "earth"     345 

v 

XIII.  16.  This,  then,  is  what  I  conceive,  O  my 
God,  when  I  hear  Thy  Scripture  saying,  In  the  begin- 
ning God  made  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  the  earth 
was  invisible  and  without  form,  and  darkness  was 
upon  the  deep;  and  not  mentioning  what  day  Thou 
createdst  them.   It  is,  therefore,  because  of  the  Heaven 
of  heavens,  that  intellectual  Heaven,  whose  intelligent 
inhabitants  know  all  at  once,  not  in  part,  not  darkly, 
not  through  a  glass,  but  as  a  whole,  in  manifestation, 
face  to  face,  not  this  thing  now,  and  that  thing  anour 
but  all  at  once,  without  any  succession  of  times;  and 
because   of  the   earth  invisible  and  without  form, 
without   any  succession   of  times,  which   succession 
presents  "  this  thing  now,  that  thing  anon  "  (because 
where  is  no  form,  there  is  no  distinction  of  things), — 
it  is,  then,   on   account   of  these   two,  a  primitive 
formed,  and  a  primitive  formless,  the  one,  heaven,  but 
the  Heaven  of  heaven,  the  other  earth,  but  the  earth 
invisible  and  without  form,  —  it   is  because  there 
were  these  two,  that  Thy  Scripture  said,  without  men- 
tion of  days,  In  the  Beginning  God  created  Heaven 
and  Earth.    For  forthwith  it  subjoined  what  earth  it 
speaks  of;   and,  moreover,  as  the  Firmament  is  re- 
corded to  be   created  the   second   day,  and   called 
Heaven,  it  shows  to  us  of  which   Heaven  it  before 
spake  without  mention  of  days. 

XIV.  17   Wondrous  depth  of  Thy  words  !  whose 
surface,  behold !  is  before  us,  inviting  to  the  docile 
and  childlike  ;  yet  are  they  a  wondrous  depth,  O  my 
God,  a  wondrous  depth !     It  is  awful  to  look  therein  ; 
an  awfulness  of  honor,  and  a  trembling  of  love.    The 


346  Augustine  argues  with  those 

enemies  thereof  I  hate  vehemently.  O  that  Thou 
wouldest  slay  them  with  Thy  two-edged  sword,  that 
they  might  no  longer  be  enemies  unto  it !  for  so  do  I 
love  to  have  them  slain  unto  themselves,  that  they 
may  live  unto  Thee.  But  behold  others,  not  fault- 
finders, but  extollers  of  the  book  of  Genesis,  say: 
"The  Spirit  of  God,  Who  by  His  servant  Moses 
wrote  these  things,  would  not  have  those  words  thus 
understood ;  He  would  not  have  them  understood  as 
iThou  sayest,  but  otherwise,  as  we  say."  Unto  whom, 
Thyself,  O  Thou  God  of  us  all,  being  Judge,  do  I 
thus  answer. 

XV.  18.  "Will  you  affirm  that  to  be  false,  which 
with  a  strong  voice  Truth  tells  me  in  my  inner  ear, 
concerning  the  eternity  of  the  Creator,  that  His  sub- 
stance is  noways  changed  by  time,  nor  His  will  sep- 
arate from  His  substance  ?  Wherefore,  He  willeth  not 
one  thing  now,  another  anon ;  but  once,  and  at  once, 
and  always,  He  willeth  all  things  that  He  willeth ; 
not  again  and  again,  nor  now  this,  now  that ;  nor  will- 
eth afterwards,  what  before  He  willed  not,  nor  willeth 
not,  what  before  He  willed ;  because  such  a  will  is 
mutable ;  and  no  mutable  thing  is  eternal :  but  our 
God  is  eternal.  Again,  the  expectation  of  things  to 
come  becomes  sight,  when  they  are  come,  and  this 
same  sight  becomes  memory,  when  they  be  past. 
Now,  all  thought  which  thus  varies  is  mutable ;  and 
nothing  mutable  is  eternal :  but  our  God  is  eternal." 
These  things  I  infer,  and  put  together,  and  find  that 
my  God,  the  eternal  God,  hath  not  upon  any  new  will 
made  any  creature,  nor  doth  His  knowledge  admit 


who  dispute  his  interpretation.  347 

of  anything  transitory.  "  What  will  ye  say  then,  O 
ye  gainsayers  ?  Are  these  things  false  ?  "  —  "  No," 
they  say.  "  "What  then  ?  Is  it  false,  that  every  na- 
ture already  formed,  or  matter  capable  of  form,  is 
only  from  Him  Who  is  supremely  good,  because  he 
exists  supremely  ?  "  —  "  Neither  do  we  deny  this,"  say 
they.  "  What  then  ?  do  you  deny  that  there  is  a 
certain  sublime  creature,  with  so  chaste  a  love  cleaving 
unto  the  true  and  truly  eternal  God,  that,  although 
not  coeternal  with  Him,  yet  it  is  not  detached  from " 
Him,  nor  dissolved  into  the  variety  and  vicissitude  of 
times,  but  reposeth  in  the  most  true  contemplation  of 
Him  only  ? "  Because  Thou,  O  God,  unto  him  that 
loveth  Thee  as  Thou  commandest,  dost  show  Thyself, 
and  sufficest  him ;  therefore  doth  this  sublime  crea- 
ture not  decline  from  Thee,  nor  toward  itself. 
This  is  the  house  of  God,1  not  of  earthly  mould,  nor 
of  any  celestial  bulk  corporeal,  but  spiritual,  and  par- 
taker of  Thy  eternity,  because  without  defection  for- 
ever. For  Thou  hast  made  it  fast  for  ever  and  ever^ 
Thou  hast  given  it  a  law  which  it  shall  not  pass? 
Nor  yet  is  it  coeternal  with  Thee,  O  God,  because 
not  without  beginning:  for  it  was  made. 

20.  Wisdom  was  created  before  all  things;3  not 
that  Wisdom  which  is  altogether  equal  aiid  coeternal 
unto  Thee,  our  God,  His  Father,  and  by  Whom  all 
things  were  created,  and  in  Whom,  as  the  Beginning^ 
Thou  createdst  heaven  and  earth;  but  that  wisdom 
which  is  created,  that  is,  the  intellectual  nature, 
which,  by  contemplating  the  light,  is  light.  For  this, 

1  Compare  XI.  12,  supra.  2  Fs.  cxlviii.  6.          3  Sirach  i.  4. 


348  Wisdom  increate,  and  created. 

though  created,  is  also  called  wisdom.  But  such  dif- 
ference as  is  betwixt  the  Light  which  enlighteneth, 
and  which  is  enlightened,  so  much  is  there  betwixt 
the  Wisdom  that  createth,  and  that  created  ;  betwixt 
the  Righteousness  which  justifieth,  and  the  righteous- 
ness Avhich  is  made  by  justification.  For  we  also  arc 
called  Thy  righteousness :  as  saith  a  certain  servant 
of  Thine,  That  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness 
of  God  in  Him.  Therefore,  since  a  certain  created 
wisdom  was  created  before  all  things,  viz.,  the  rational 
and  intellectual  mind  of  that  chaste  city  of  Thine, 
our  mother  which  is  above,  and  is  free  and  eternal  in 
the  heavens  (in  what  heavens,  if  not  in  those  that 
praise  Thee,  the  Heaven  of  heavens  f  because  this  is 
also  the  Heaven  of  heavens  for  the  Lord) ;  though 
we  find  no  time  before  it  (because  that  which  hath 
been  created  before  all  things,  preccdeth  also  the 
creature  of  time),  yet  is  the  eternity  of  the  Creator 
Himself  before  it,  from  Whom,  being  created,  it  took 
the  beginning,  not  indeed  of 'time,  for  time  itself  was 
not  yet,  but  of  its  creation.1 

21.  Hence  created  wisdom  is  altogether  other  than 

1  By  this  "created  wisdom,"  this  "sublime  creature,"  this  "chaste 
city  of  God,"  Augustine  seems  to  mean  the  intelligible  world,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  sensible.  Jt  is  Unite  Spirit  as  a  universal,  in  distinction 
from  finite  Nature  or  Matter.  The  influence  of  his  Platonic  studies  is 
very  apparent,  in  these  speculations;  and  though  it  may  be  diflicult  to 
explain  some  of  his  phraseology,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  keep  quite  clear 
of  the  doctrine  of  on  eternal  creation  de  nihilo,  such  as  Origeu  held,  yet 
Augustine  is  positive  and  plain  in  asserting,  that  this  finite  universal 
Intelligence  is  a  creature,  and  not  of  the  same  substance  with  God.  He 
carefully  distinguishes  it  from  the  second  person  in  the  Trinity,  the  eter- 
nal and  absolute  Wisdom,  the  Word  which  was  with  God  and  was  God 
the  Son.  — ED. 


Augustine  argues  with  opposers.  349 

Thou,  and  not  the  Self-same;  because,  though  we 
find  time  neither  before  it,  nor  even  in  it  (it  being 
meet  ever  to  behold  Thy  face,  nor  ever  drawn  away 
from  it,  wherefore  it  is  not  varied  by  any  change),  yet 
is  there  in  it  a  liability  to  change,  whence  it  would 
wax  dark  and  chill,  were  it  not  that,  by  a  strong  af- 
fection cleaving  unto  Thee,  like  perpetual  noon,  it 
shineth  and  gloweth  from  Thee.  0  house  most  light- 
some and  delightsome  !  I  have  loved  thy  beauty,  and 
the  place  of  the  habitation  of  the  glory  of  my  Lord, 
thy  builder  and  possessor.  Let  my  wayfaring  sigh 
after  Thee ;  and  I  say  to  Him  that  made  thee,  let 
Him  take  possession  of  me  also  in  thee,  seeing  He 
hath  made  me  likewise.  I  have  gone  astray  like  a 
lost  sheep;  yet  upon  the  shoulders  of  my  Shepherd, 
thy  builder,  I  hope  to  be  brought  back  to  thee. 

22.  "  What  say  ye  to  me,  O  ye  gainsayers  that  I 
was  speaking  unto,  who  yet  believe  Moses  to  have 
been  the  holy  servant  of  God,  and  his  books  the  or- 
acles of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Is  not  this  house  of  God, 
not  coeternal  indeed  with  God,  yet  after  its  measure, 
eternal  in  the  heavens,  where  you  seek  for  changes 
of  times  in  vain,  because  you  will  not  find  them  ? 
For  that  thing,  which  feels  that  it  is  ever  good  to 
cleave  fast  to  God,  surpasses  all  extension,  and  all  re- 
volving periods  of  time." — <;  It  is,"  say  they.  "  What, 
then,  of  all  that  which  my  heart  loudly  uttered  unto 
my  God,  when  inwardly  it  heard  the  voice  of  His 
praise,  what  part  thereof  do  you  affirm  to  be  false  ? 
Is  it  that  the  matter  was  without  form,  in  which,  be- 
cause there  was  no  form,  there  was  no  order?  But 
25 


350         Aspirations  after  tJie  Supreme  Good. 

where  no  order  was,  there  could  be  no  vicissitude  of 
times :  and  yet  this  *  almost  nothing,'  inasmuch  as  it 
was  not  altogether  nothing,  was  from  Him  certainly, 
from  Whom  is  whatsoever  is,  in  what  degree  soever 
it  is."  — "This  also,"  say  they,  " do  we  not  deny." 

XVI.  23.  With  these  would  I  now  parley  a  little 
in  Thy  presence,  O  my  God,  who  grant  all  these 
things  to  be  true,  which  Thy  Truth  whispers  unto 
my  soul.  For  those  who  deny  these  things,  let  them 
bark,  and  deafen  themselves  as  much  as  they  please ; 
I  will  essay  to  persuade  them  to  quiet,  and  to  open 
in  them  a  way  for  Thy  word.  But  if  they  refuse, 
and  repel  me,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  my  God,  be  not 
Thou  silent  to  me.  Speak  Thou  truly  in  my  heart, 
for  only  Thou  so  speakest,  and  I  will  let  them  alone, 
blowing  upon  the  dust  without,  and  raising  it  up 
into  their  own  eyes;  and  myself  will  enter  my 
chamber,  and  sing  there  a  song  of  loves  unto  Thee ; 
groaning  with  groanings  unutterable,  in  my  way- 
faring, and  remembering  Jerusalem,  with  heart  lifted 
up  towards  it,  Jerusalem  my  country,  Jerusalem  my 
mother,  and  Thyself  that  rulest  over  it,  the  Enlight- 
ener,  Father,  Guardian,  Husband,  the  pure  and  strong 
delight,  and  solid  joy,  and  all  good  things  unspeak- 
able, yea,  all  at  once,  because  the  One  Sovereign  and 
true  Good.  Nor  will  I  be  turned  away,  until  Thou 
gather  all  that  I  am,  from  this  dispersed  and  this  dis- 
ordered estate,  into  the  peace  of  that  our  most  dear 
mother,  where  are  the  first-fruits  of  my  spirit  al- 
ready (whence  I  am  ascertained  of  these  things), 
and  Thou  conform  and  confirm  it  forever,  O  my  God, 


Five  explanations  of  Gen.  i.  1.  351 

my  Mercy.  But  those  who  do  not  deny  all  these 
truths,  who  honor  Thy  holy  Scripture,  set  forth  by 
holy  Moses,  placing  it  on  the  summit  of  authority  to 
be  followed,  and  do  yet  contradict  me  in  some 
things,  I  answer  thus :  Be  Thyself  Judge,  O  our 
God,  between  my  Confessions  and  these  men's  con- 
tradictions. 

XVII.  24.  For  they  say, "  Though  these  things  be 
true,  yet  did  not  Moses  intend  those  two,  when,  by 
revelation  of  the  Spirit,  he  saith,  In  the  beginning 
God  created  heaven  and  earth.  He  did  not,  under 
the  name  of  heaven,  signify  that  spiritual  or  intellec- 
tual creature  which  always  beholds  the  face  of  God  ; 
nor  under  the  name  of  earth,  that  formless  matter." 
"What  then?"  "That  man  of  God,"  say  they, 
"  meant  as  we  say ;  this  declared  he  by  those  words." 
"  What  ?"  "  By  the  name  of  heaven  and  earth  would 
he  first  signify,"  say  they,  "  universally  and  compen- 
diously, all  this  visible  world ;  and  afterwards,  by  the 
enumeration  of  the  several  days,  arrange  in  detail, 
and,  as  it  were,  piece  by  piece,  all  those  things,  which 
it  pleased  the  Holy  Ghost  thus  to  enounce.  For 
such  were  that  rude  and  carnal  people  to  which  he 
spake,  that  he  thought  them  fit  to  be  entrusted  with 
the  knowledge  of  such  works  of  God  only  as  were 
visible."  They  agree,  however,  that  under  the  words, 
earth  invisible  and  without  form,  and  that  darksome 
deep,  out  of  which  it  is  subsequently  shown  that  all 
these  visible  things,  which  we  all  know,  were  made 
and  arranged  during  those  "  days,"  may,  not  incon- 
gruously, be  understood,  this  formless  (first)  matter. 


352  Five  explanations  of  Gen.  i.  1. 

25.  What,  now,  if  another  should  say,  "  that  this 
same  formlessness  and  confusedness  of  matter  was 
first  conveyed  under  the  name  of  heaven  and  earth, 
because  out  of  it  was  this  visible  world  with  all  those 
natures  which  most  manifestly  appear  in  it,  which  is 
oftentimes  called  by  the  name  of  heaven  and  earth, 
created   and  perfected?"     What,  again,  if  another 
should  say,  "  that  that  invisible  and  visible  nature  is 
not  indeed  inappropriately  called  heaven  and  earth ; 
and  so,  the  universal  creation  which  God  made  in 
His  Wisdom,  that  is,  in  the  Beginning,  was  compre- 
hended under  those  two  words  ?  yet,  since  all  things 
be  made  not  of  the  substance  of  God,  but  out  of 
nothing  (because  they  are  not  the  same  that  God  is, 
and  there  is  a  mutable  nature  in  them  all,  whether 
they  abide,  as  doth  the  eternal  house  of  God,  or  be 
changed,  as  the  soul  and  body  of  man  are)  :  there- 
fore the  common  matter  of  all  things  visible  and  in- 
visible (as  yet  unformed,  though  capable  of  form), 
out  of  which  was  to  be  created  both  heaven  and 
earth  (L  e.,  the  invisible  and  visible  creature  when 
formed),  was  designated  by  the  same  names  that  are 
given  to  the  earth  invisible  and  without  form  and 
the  darkness  upon  the  deep,  but  with  this  distinction, 
that  by  the  earth  invisible  and  without  form  is  un- 
derstood corporeal  matter,  antecedent  to  its  being 
qualified  by  any  form ;  and  by  the  darkness  upon  the 
deep,  spiritual  matter,  before  it  underwent  any  re- 
straint of  its  unlimited  fluidness,  or  recdived   any 
light  from  Wisdom?" 

26.  It  yet  remains  for  a  man  to  say,  if  he  will, 


Divers  interpretations  harmless  if  reverent.      353 

"  that  the  already  perfected  and  formed  natures,  visi- 
ble and  invisible,  are  not  signified  under  the  name  of 
heaven  and  earth,  when  we  read,  In  the  beginning 
God  made  heaven  and  earth,  but  that  the  yet  un- 
formed commencement  of  things,  the  stuff  apt  to  re- 
ceive form  and  making,  was  called  by  these  names, 
because  therein  were  confusedly  contained,  not  as  yet 
distinguished  by  their  qualities  and  forms,  all  those 
which  being  now  digested  into  order,  are  called 
Heaven  and  Earth,  the  one  being  the  spiritual,  the 
other  the  corporeal,  creation. 

XVIII.  27.  All  which  things  being  heard  and  well 
considered,  I  will  not  strive  about  words  :  for  that  is 
profitable  to  nothing,  but  the  subversion  of  the  hear- 
ers. But  the  law  is  good  to  edify,  if  a  man  use  it 
lawfully:  because  the  end  of  it  is  charity,  out  of  a 
pure  heart  and  good  conscience  and  faith  unfeigned. 
And  well  did  our  Master  know  upon  which  two  com- 
mandments He  hung  all  the  law  and  the  Prophets. 
And  what  doth  it  prejudice  me,  O  my  God,  Thou 
light  of  my  eyes  in  secret,  zealously  confessing  these 
things,  since  divers  things  may  be  understood  under 
these  words  which  yet  are  all  true,  —  what,  I  say, 
doth  it  prejudice  me,  if  I  think  otherwise  than 
another  thinketh  the  writer  thought  ?  All  we  read- 
ers verily  strive  to  trace  out  and  to  understand  his 
meaning ;  and  seeing  we  believe  him  to  speak  truly, 
we  dare  not  imagine  him  to  have  said  anything 
which  we"  either  know  or  think  to  be  false.  While 
every  man  endeavors  then  to  understand  in  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  the  same  as  the  writer  understood,  what 


354        Points  wherein  all  expositors  agree. 

hurt  is  it,  if  a  man  understand  what  Thou,  the  light 
of  all  true  speaking  minds,  dost  show  him  to  be  true, 
although  he  whom  he  reads,  understood  not  this, 
seeing  he  also  understood  a  Truth,  though  not  this 
truth? 

XIX.  28.  For  true  it  is,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  madest 
heaven  and  earth ;  and  it  is  true,  too,  that  the  Be- 
ginning is  Thy  Wisdom,  in  "Which  Thou  createdst 
all /  and  true,  again,  that  this  visible  world  hath  for 
its  greater  parts  the  heaven  and  the  earth,  which 
briefly  comprise  all  made  and  created  natures.  And 
true,  too,  that  whatsoever  is  mutable,  gives  us  to  un- 
derstand a  certain  want  of  form,  whereby  it  receiveth 
a  form,  or  is  changed,  or  turned.  It  is  true,  that  that 
is  subject  to  no  times,  which  so  cleaveth  to  the  un- 
changeable Form,  as,  although  capable  of  change, 
yet  never  to  be  changed.  It  is  true,  that  that  form- 
lessness which  is  almost  nothing,  cannot  be  subject 
to  the  alteration  of  times.  It  is  true,  that  that 
whereof  a  thing  is  made,  may  by  a  certain  mode  of 
speech,  be  called  by  the  name  of  the  thing  made  of 
it;  whence  that  formlessness,  whereof  heaven  and 
earth  were  made,  might  be  called  heaven  and  earth. 
It  is 'true,  that  of  things  having  form,  there  is  not 
any  nearer  to  having  no  form,  than  the  "earth"  arid 
the  "deep"  It  is  true,  that  not  only  every  created 
and  formed  thing,  but  whatsoever  is  capable  of  being 
created  and  formed,  Thou  madest,  of  whom  are  all 
things.  It  is  true,  that  whatsoever  is  formed  out  of 
that  which  had  no  form,  was  unformed  before  it  was 
formed. 


Various  interpretations  of  Gen.  i.  1.  355 

XX.  29.  Out  o£4  all  these  truths,  of  which  they 
doubt  not  whose  inward  eye  Thou  hast  enabled  to 
see  such  things,  and  who  unshakenly  believe  Thy 
servant  Moses  to  have  spoken  in  the  spirit  of  Truth, 
one  truth  is  taken  by  him,  who  saith,  In  the  Begin- 
ning God  made  the  heaven  and  the  earth :  that  is  "  In 
His  word,  coeternal  with  himself,  God  made  the  in- 
telligible and  the  sensible,  or  the  spiritual  and  the 
corporeal  creature;"  another  truth  by  him  that  saith, 
In  the  Beginning  God  made  heaven  and  earth :  that 
is,  "  In  His  Word  coeternal  with  Himself,  did  God 
make  the  universal  bulk  of  this  corporeal  world,  to- 
gether with  all  those  apparent  and  known  creatures, 
which  it   containeth;"   another  truth   by  him  that 
saith,  In  the  Beginning  God  made  heaven  and  earth: 
that  is,  "  In  His  Word  coeternal  with  Himself,  did 
God  make  the  formless  matter  of  creatures  spiritual 
and  corporeal ; "  another  truth  by  him  that  saith,  In 
the  Beginning  God  created  Heaven  and  Earth:  that 
is,  "In  His  Word  coeternal  with  Himself,  did  God 
create  the  formless  matter  of  the  creature  corporeal, 
wherein    heaven   and   earth    lay   as    yet  confused, 
which  being  now  distinguished  and  formed,  we  at 
this  day  see  in  the  bulk  of  this  world;"  another  truth 
by  "him   who   saith,  In  the  Beginning   God  made 
Heaven  and  Earth :   that  is,  "  In  the  very  beginning 
of  creating  and  working,  did  God  make  that  formless 
matter,  confusedly  containing  in  itself  both  heaven 
and  earth,  out  of  which,  being  formed,  do  they  now 
stand  out,  and  are  apparent,  with  all  that  is  in  them." 

XXI.  And  with  regard  to  the  understanding  of 


356         Various  interpretations  of  Gen.  i.  1. 

the  words  following,  He  who  saith,  But  the  earth  was 
invisible,  and  without  form,  and*  darkness  was  upon 
the  dee}):  that  is,  "that  corporeal  thing  that  God  made, 
was  as  yet  a  formless  matter  of  corporeal  things, 
"without  order,  without  light,"  chooses  one  of  those 
truths.  Another  truth  he  chooses,  who  says,  The 
earth  was  invisible,  and  without  form,  and  darkness 
was  upon  the  deep :  that  is,  "  this  all,  which  is  called 
heaven  and  earth,  was  still  a  formless  and  darksome 
matter,  of  which  the  corporeal  heaven  and  the  corpo- 
real earth  were  to  be  made,  with  all  things  in  them, 
which  are  known  to  ou»  corporeal  senses."  Another 
truth  he  chooses,  who  says,  The  earth  was  invisible 
and  without  form,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  deep  : 
that  is,  "this  all,  which  is  called  heaven  and  earth,  was 
still  a  formless  and  darksome  matter,  out  of  which  was 
to  be  made,  both  that  intelligible  heaven,  otherwhere 
called  the  Heaven  of  heavens,  and  the  earth,  that  is, 
the  whole  corporeal  nature,  under  which  name  is 
comprised  this  corporeal  heaven  also ;  in  a  word,  out 
of  which  every  visible  and  invisible  creature  was  to 
be  created."  Another  truth  he  chooses,  who  says, 
T7te  earth  was  invisible  and  without  form,  and  dark- 
ness was  upon  the  deep:  that  is,  "the  Scriptui-e  did 
not  call  that  formlessness  itself  by  the  name  of 
heaven  and  earth,  but  that  formlessness  already  was, 
which  it  called  the  earth  invisible,  without  form,  and 
darkness  upon  the  deep,  and  of  which  it  had  before 
said,  that  God  had  made  heaven  and  earth,  namely, 
the  spiritual  and  corporeal  creature."  Another  truth 
he  chooses,  who  says  The  earth  was  invisible  and 


Does  Scripture  teach  the  creation  of  chaos?     357 

without  form,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  deep  :  that 
is,  "  there  already  was  a  certain  formless  matter,  of 
which  the  Scripture  said  before,  that  God  matfe 
heaven  and  earth;  namely,  the  whole  corporeal  bulk 
of  the  world,  divided  into  two  great  parts,  upper  and 
lower,  with  all  the  common  and  known  creatures  in 
them." 

XXII.  31.  For,  should  any  attempt  to  dispute 
against  these  two  last  opinions  in  this  manner:  "If 
you  will  not  allow  that  this  formlessness  of  matter 
seems  to  be  called  by  the  name  of  heaven  and  earthy 
then  there  was  something  which  God  had  not  made, 
out  of  which  to  make  heaven  and  earth ;  for  Scrip- 
ture hath  not  told  us  that  God  made  this  formless 
matter,  unless  we  understand  it  to  be  included  in  the 
name  of  heaven  and  earth,  or  of  earth  alone,  when  it 
is  said,  In  the  Beginning  God  made  the  heaven  and 
earth,  so  that  in  what  follows,  and  the  earth  was  in- 
visible and  without  form,  we  are  to  understand  no 
other  matter  but  that  which  God  made,  whereof  is 
written  above,  God  made  heaven  and  earth" — if  this 
be  the  manner  of  arguing,  the  maintainers  of  either 
of  those  two  latter  opinions  will,  upon  hearing  this, 
return  for  answer :  "  We  do  not  deny  this  formless 
matter  to  be  indeed  created  very  good,  by  God,  that 
God  of  Whom  are  all  things ;  for  as  we  affirm  that  to 
be  a  greater  good,  which  is  created  and  formed,  so 
we  confess  that  to  be  a  lesser  good  which  is  made 
capable  of  creation  and  form,  yet  still  good.  We 
say,  however,  that  Scripture  hath  not  set  down,  that 
God  made  this  formlessness,  as  also  it  hath  not  many 


358  Matter  is  not  coeternal  with  God. 

other  things ;  as  the  Cherubim,  and  /Seraphim,  and 
those  which  the  Apostle  distinctly  speaks  of,  Thrones, 
Dominions,  Principalities,  Powers.1  All  which,  that 
God  made,  is  most  apparent.  Or  if  in  that  which  is 
said,  He  made  heaven  and  earth,  all  things  be  com- 
prehended, what  shall  we  say  of  the  waters  upon 
which  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  f  For  if  they  be 
comprised  in  this  word  earth,  how  then  can  formless 
matter  be  meant  in  that  name  of  earth,  when  we  see 
the  waters  so  beautiful  ?  Or  if  it  be  so  taken,  why 
then  is  it  written,  that  out  of  the  same  formlessness 
the  firmament  was  made,  and  called  heaven,  and  that 
the  waters  were  made,  is  not  written  ?  For  the 
waters  remain  not  formless  and  invisible,  seeing  we 
behold  them  flowing  in  such  a  comely  manner.  But 
if  they  then  received  that  beauty,  when  God  said, 
Let  the  water  which  is  under  the  firmament  be  gath- 
ered together,  so  that  the  gathering  together  be  itself 
the  forming  of  them,  what  will  be  answered  as  to 
those  waters  which  be  above  the  firmament  ?  Seeing 
that  if  formless,  they  would  not  have  been  worthy  of 
so  honorable  a  seat,  nor  is  it  written,  by  what  word 
they  were  formed.  If,  then,  Genesis  is  silent  as  to 
God's  making  a  certain  thing  which  yet  neither  sound 
faith  nor  well-grounded  understanding  doubteth  that 
He  made,  and  no  sober  teaching  will  dare  to  affirm 
these  waters  to  be  coeternal  with  God,  on  the  ground 
that  we  find  them  to  be  mentioned  in  the  book  of 
Genesis,  but  do  not  find  when  they  were  created; 
why  should  we  not  understand  that  formless  matter 

1  Col.  i.  16. 


Truth  of  fact,  and  of  grammatical  meaning.  359 

(\vliich  this  Scripture  calls  the  earth  invisible  and 
without  form,  and  darksome  deep)  to  have  been  cre- 
ated of  God  out  of  nothing,  and  therefore  not  to  be 
coeternal  to  Him,  notwithstanding  that  this  history 
hath  omitted  to  show  token  it  was  created  ? 

XXIII.  32.   These  things,  then,  being  heard  and 
perceived,  according  to  the  weakness  of  my  capacity 
(which  I  confess  unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  knowest  it), 
two  sorts  of  disagreements  I  see  may  arise,  when  a 
thing  is  in  words  related  by  true  reporters ;   one  con- 
cerning the  truth  of  the  things,  the  other  concerning 
the  meaning  of  the  relater.    For  we  inquire  one  thing, 
when  we  ask  about  the  making  of  the  creature,  what 
is  the  fact ;   another  thing,  when  we  ask  what  Moses, 
that  excellent  minister  of  Thy  Faith,  would  have  his 
reader  and  hearer  understand  by  those  words.     As 
for  the  first  thing, —  away  with  all  those  who  imagine 
themselves  to  know  as  a  fact,  what  is  false  ;   and  for 
the  second,  —  away  with  all  who  imagine  Moses  to 
have  written  things  false.     But  let  me  be  united  in 
Thee,  O  Lord,  with  those,  and  delight  myself  in  Thee, 
with  them,  that  feed  on  Thy  Truth,  in  the  largeness 
of  charity,  and  let  us  approach   together   unto  the 
words  of  Thy  book,  and  seek  in  them. for  Thy  mean- 
ing, through  the  meaning  of  Thy  servant,  by  whose 
pen  Thou  hast  dispensed  them. 

XXIV.  33.  But  which  of  us  shall,  among  those  so 
many  truths,  which  occur  to  inquirers  in  those  words, 
as  they  are  differently  understood,  so  discover  that 
one  meaning,  as  to  affirm,  "  This,  Moses   thought," 
and,  "This,  would  he  have  understood  in  that  his- 


360  The  interpreter  of  scripture 

tory,"  with  the  same  confidence  as  he  would  affirm,  re- 
specting a  self-evident  truth,  "  This  is  true,"  whether 
Moses  thought  this  or  that  ?  For  beKold,  O  ray  God, 
I,  Thy  servant,  who  have  in  this  book  vowed  a  sacri- 
fice of  confession  unto  Thee,  and  pray  that  by  Thy 
mercy  I  may  pay  my  vows  unto  T7iee,  can  I,  with  the 
same  confidence  wherewith  I  affirm  that  in  Thy  in- 
commutable Word  Thou  createdst  all  things  visible 
and  invisible,  affirm  also  that  Moses  meant  no  other 
than  this,  when  he  wrote,  In  the  beginning  God 
made  Heaven  and  Earth  ?  No.  Because  I  see  not 
in  his  mind  that  he  thought  of  this  latter  when  he 
wrote  these  things,  as  I  do  see  the  former,  in  Thy 
truth,  to  be  certain.  For  he  might  have  had  his 
thoughts  upon  God's  commencement  of  creating, 
when  he  said,  In  the  Beginning;  and  by  heaven  and 
earth,  in  this  place,  he  might  intend  no  formed  and 
perfected  nature,  whether  spiritual  or  corporeal,  but 
both  of  them  inchoate  a*nd  as  yet  formless.  For  I 
perceive  that  whichsoever  of  the  two  had  been  said, 
it  might  have  been  truly  said ;  but  which  of  the  two 
he  thought  of  in  these  words,  I  do  not  so  perceive. 
Although,  whether  it  were  either  of  these,  or  any 
sense  beside  (that  I  have  not  here  mentioned),  which 
this  so  great  man  saw  in  his  mind,  when  he  uttered 
these  words,  I  doubt  not  but  that  he  saw  it  truly, 
and  expressed  it  aptly. 

XXV.  34.  Let  no  man  harass  me,  then,  by  saying, 
Moses  thought  not  as  you  say,  but  as  I  say.  For  if 
he  should  ask  me,  "  How  know  you  that  Moses 
thought  that  which  you  infer  out  of  his  words  ?  "  I 


should  not  be  dogmatic.  361 

ought  to  take  it  in  good  part,  and  would  answer,  per- 
chance, as  I  have  above,  or  something  more  at  large, 
if  he  were  unyielding.  But  when  he  saith,  "Moses 
meant  not  what  you  say,  but  what  I  say,"  and  yet  de- 
nieth  not  that  what  both  of  us  say  may  be  true,  — 

0  my  God,  life  of  the  pooi-,  in  Whose  bosom  is  no 
contradiction,  pour  down  a  softening   dew  into   my 
heart,  that  I  may  patiently  bear  with  such  as  say  this 
to  me ;    who  say  it,  not  because  they  have  a  divine 
Spirit,  and  have  seen  in  the  heart  of  Thy  servant  what 
they  speak,  but  because  they  be  proud ;  not  knowing 
Moses'  opinion,  but  loving  their  own,  not  because  it  is 
truth,  but  because  it  is  theirs.    Otherwise  they  would 
equally  love  another  true  opinion,  as  I  love  what  they 
say,  when  they  say  true ;   not  because  it  is  theirs,  but 
because  it  is  true, — and  on  that  very  ground  not 
theirs,  because  it  is  true.    But  if  they  therefore  love 
it  because  it  is  true,  then  it  is  both  theirs  and  mine, 
as  being  in  common   to   all   lovers  of  truth.     But 
Avhereas  they  contend  that  Moses  did  not  mean  what 

1  say,  but  what  they  say,  this  I  like  not,  love  not ; 
for,  though  it  were  so,  yet  their  rashness  belongs  not 
to  knowledge,  but  to  over-boldness,  and  not  insight 
but  vanity  was  its  parent.     O  Lord,  Thy  judgments 
are  terrible  ;   seeing  Thy  truth  is  neither  mine,  nor 
his,  nor  another's ;    but  belonging  to  us  all,  whom 
Thou  callest  publicly  to  partake  of  it,  warning  us  ter- 
ribly, not  to  account  it  private  to  ourselves,  lest  we  be 
deprived  of  it.      For  whosoever  challenges  that  as 
proper  in  himself,  which  Thou  propoundest  to  all  to 
enjoy,  and  would  have  that  his  own  which  belongs  to 


362      Differing  interpretations  to  be  proposed 

all,  is  driven  from  what  is  in  common,  to  his  own ; 
that  is,  from  truth  to  a  lie.  For  he  that  speaketh  a 
lie,  speaketh  it  of  his  own. 

35.  Hearken,  O  God,  Thou  best  Judge,  Truth  itself; 
hearken  to  what  I  shall  say  to  this  gainsayer ;  hear- 
ken, for  before  Thee  do  I  speak,  and  before  my  breth- 
ren, who  employ  Thy  law  lawfully,  to  the  end  of 
charity  ;  hearken,  and  behold,  if  it  please  Thee,  what 
I  shall  say  to  him.  This  brotherly  and  peaceful  word 
do  I  return  unto  him :  "  If  we  both  see  that  to  be 
true  which  thou  sayest,  and  both  see  that  to  be  true 
which  I  say,  where,  I  pray  thee,  do  we  see  it  ?  Nei- 
ther I  in  thee,  nor  thou  in  me ;  but  both  in  the  un- 
changeable Truth  itself,  which  is  above  our  souls. 
Seeing,  then,  we  strive  not  about  the  very  light  of  the 
Lord  our  God,  why  strive  we  about  the  thoughts  of 
our  neighbor,  which  we  cannot  so  see,  as  the  unchange- 
able Truth  is  seen  ?  because,  if  Moses  himself  had  ap- 
peared to  us  and  said,  '  This  I  meant,'  even  then  we 
should  not  see  it,  but  should  believe  it.  Let  us  not 
then  be  puffed  up,  for  one  against  another,  above  that 
which  is  written;  let  us  love  the  Lord  our  God  with 
att  our  heart,  with  all  our  soul,  and  with  all  our 
mind;  and  our  neighbor  as  ourself.  With  a  view  to 
which  two  precepts  of  charity,  unless  we  believe  that 
Moses  meant  whatsoever  in  those  books  he  did  mean, 
we  shall  make  God  a  liar,  imagining  otherwise  of  our 

'  O  O 

fellow-servant's  mind  than  He  hath  taught  us.  Be- 
hold, now,  how  foolish  it  is,  in  such  abundance  of 
most  true  meaning  as  may  be  extracted  out  of  those 
words,  rashly  to  affirm  which  of  them  Moses  princi- 


in  a  spirit  of  charity.  363 

pally  meant ;  and  with  pernicious  contentions  to  of- 
fend charity  itself,  for  whose  sake  he  whose  words 
we  go  about  to  expound  spake  every  thing." 

XXVI.  36.  And  yet,  O  my  God,  Thou  lifter  up  of 
my  humility,  and  rest  of  my  labor,  Who  hearest  my 
confessions,  and  forgivest  my  sins,  seeing  Thou  com- 
mandest  me  to  love  my  neighbor  as  myself,  I  cannot 
believe  that  Thou  gavest  a  less  gift  unto  Moses,  Thy 
faithful  servant,  than  I  would  wish  or  desire  Thee  to 
have  given  me,  had  I  been  born  in  the  time  he  was,  and 
hadst  Thou  set  me  in  that  office,  that  by  the  service 
of  my  heart  and  tongue,  those  books  might  be  dis- 
pensed, which  for  so  long  after  were  to  profit  all  na- 
tions, and,  through  the  whole  world,  from  such  an 
eminence  of  authority,  were  to  surmount  all  sayings 
of  false  and  proud  teachings.  I  should  have  desired, 
verily,  had  I  then  been  Moses  (for  we  all  come  from 
the  same  lump,  and  what  is  man,  save  as  Thou  art 
mindful  of  him?},  and  been  enjoined  by  Thee  to 
write  the  book  of  Genesis,  such  a  power  of  expres- 
sion, and  such  a  style,  to  be  given  me,  that  neither 
they  who  cannot  yet  understand  how  God  created, 
might  reject  the  sayings,  as  beyond  their  capacity, 
and  they  who  had  attained  thereto,  might  find  what 
true  opinion  soever  they  had  by  thought  arrived  at 
not  passed  over  in  those  few  words  of  Thy  servant ; 
and  should  another  man  by  the  light  of  truth  have 
discovered  another,  neither  should  that  fail  of  being 
discoverable  in  those  same  words. 

XXVII.  37.  For  as  a  fountain  within  a  narrow 
compass  is  more  plentiful,  and  supplies  a  tide  for  more 


364           God's  creative  agency  not  gradual. 

streams  over  larger  spaces  than  any  one  of  those 
streams  which,  after  a  wide  interval,  is  derived  from 
the  same  fountain,  so  the  relation  of  that  dispenser  of 
Thine,  which  was  to  benefit  many  who  were  to  dis- 
course thereon,  does,  out  of  a  narrow  scantling,  over- 
flow into  streams  of  clearest  truth,  whence  every 
man  may  draw  out  for  himself  such  truth  as  he  can, 
upon  these  subjects;  one,  one  truth,  another,  another, 
by  larger  circumlocutions  of  discourse.  For  some, 
when  they  read,  or  hear  these  words,  conceive  that 
God,  like  a  man  or  some  mass  endued  with  unbounded 
power,  by  some  new  and  sudden  resolution,  did,  exte- 
rior to  Himself,  as  it  were  at  a  certain  distance,  cre- 
ate heaven  and  earth,  two  great  bodies  above  and 
below,  wherein  all  things  were  to  be  contained.  And 
when  they  hear,  God  said,  Let  it  be  made,  and  it  was 
made,  they  conceive  of  words  begun  and  ended,  sound- 
ing in  time,  and  passing  away,  after  whose  depart- 
ure, that  came  into  being  which  was  commanded  so 
to  do, — and  whatever,  of  the  like  sort,  men's  acquaint- 
ance with  the  material  world  would  suggest.  In 
whom,  being  yet  little  ones  and  carnal,  while  their 
weakness  is  by  this  humble  kind  of  speech  carried  as 
in  a  mother's  bosom,  their  faith  is  wholesomely  built 
up,  whereby  they  hold  assured  that  God  made  all 
those  natural  objects  which  in  admirable  variety 
their  eye  beholdeth  around.  "Which  words,  if  any 
one  despising  as  too  simple,  with  a  proud  weakness 
shall  stretch  himself  beyond  the  guardian  nest,  he 
will,  alas !  fall  miserably.  Have  pity,  O  Lord,  lest 
they  who  go  by  the  way  trample  on  the  unfledged 


Various  interpretations  of  Gen.  i.  1.         365 

bird ;  send  Thine  angel  to  replace  it  into  the  nest, 
that  it  may  live  till  it  can  fly. 

XXVIII.  38.  But  others,  unto  whom  these  words 
are  no  longer  a  nest,  but  deep,  shady  fruit-bowers,  see 
the  fruits  concealed  therein,  and  fly  joyously  around, 
and  with  cheerful  notes  seek  out,  and  pluck  them. 
Reading  or  hearing  these  words,  they  see  that  all 
times  past  and  to  come  are  surpassed  by  Thy  eternal 
and  stable  abiding;  and  yet  that  there  is  no  creature 
formed  in  time,  not  of  Thy  making.  And,  because 
Thy  will  is  the  same  that  Thou  art,  Thou  madest  all 
things,  not  by  ayy  change  of  will,  nor  by  a  will  which 
before  was  not ;  and  these  things  were  not  at  first  in 
Thine  own  likeness,  which  is  the  Form  of  all  things, 
but  were  made,  out  of  nothing,  a  formless  unlikeness, 
which  was  to  be  formed  by  Thy  likeness  (recurring 
to  Thy  unity,  according  to  their  appointed  capacity, 
so  far  as  is  given  to  each  thing  in  his  kind),  and  might 
all  be  made  very  good,  whether  they  abide  around 
Thee,  or,  being  in  gradation  removed  in  time  and 
place,  make  or  undergo  the  beautiful  variations  of  the 
Universe.  These  things  they  see,  and  rejoice,  in  the 
little  degree  they  here  may,  in  the  light  of  Thy  truth. 
39.  Another  bends  his  mind  on  that  which  is  said, 
In  the  Beginning  God  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  be- 
holds therein  Wisdom,  the  Beginning,  because  It  also 
speaketh  unto  us.  Another  likewise  bends  his  mind 
on  the  same  words,  and  by  Beginning  understands 
the  commencement  of  things  created;  so  that  the 
words,-/™  the  Beginning  He  made,  mean  He  at  first 
made.  And  among  them  that  understand,  In  the  Be- 

26 


366          Various  interpretations  of  Gen.  i.  1. 

ff inning,  to  mean,  "In  Thy  Wisdom  Thou  createdst 
Heaven  and  Earth,"  one  believes  the  matter  out  of 
which  the  heaven  and  earth  were  to  be  created,  to  be 
there  called  heaven  and  earth;  another,  natures  al- 
ready formed  and  distinguished ;  another,  one  formed 
nature,  and  that  a  spiritual,  under  the  name  Heaven, 
the  other  formless,  of  corporeal  matter,  under  the  name 
Earth.  They,  again,  who  by  the  names  heaven  and 
earth  understand  matter  as  yet  formless,  out  of  which 
heaven  and  earth  were  to  be  formed,  do  not  all  un- 
derstand it  in  one  way;  but  some  think  matter  is 
that  out  of  which  both  the  intelligible  and  the  sensi- 
ble creature  was  to  be  perfected ;  others  think  that 
that  only  is  matter,  out  of  which  this  sensible  corpo- 
real mass  was  to  be  made,  containing  in  its  vast 
bosom  these  visible  and  ordinary  natures.  Neither 
do  they,  who  believe  creation  already  ordered  and 
arranged  to  be  in  this  place  called  heaven  and 
earth,  understand  it  in  the  same  way ;  but  some  un- 
derstand by  it,  both  the  invisible  and  visible;  others, 
the  visible  only,  in  which  we  behold  this  lightsome 
heaven,  and  darksome  earth,  with  the  things  in  them 
contained. 

XXIX.  40.  But  he  that  no  otherwise  understands 
In  the  Beginning  He  made,  than  if  it  were  said,  At 
first  He  made,  can  only  properly  understand  heaven 
and  earth  of  the  matter  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  is, 
of  the  universal  intelligible  and  corporeal  creation. 
For  if  he  would  understand  thereby  the  universe  as 
already  formed,  it  may  be  rightly  demanded  of  him : 
"If  God  made  this  first,  what  made  He  afterwards?" 


Relation  of  matter  to  form.  367 

and  after  the  universe,  he  will  find  nothing.  "Where- 
upon, must  he  against  his  will  hear  another  question  : 
"Ho\v  did  God  make  this  first,  if  nothing  after?" 
But  when  he  says,  God  made  matter  first  formless, 
then  formed,  there  is  no  absurdity,  if  he  be  but  able 
to  discern  what  precedes  by  eternity,  what  by  time, 
what  by  choice,  and  what  by  origin,  —  by  eternity, 
as  God  is  before  all  things ;  by  time,  as  the  flower 
before  the  fruit ;  by  choice,  as  the  fruit  before  the 
flower;  by  origin,  as  the  sound  before  the  tune. 
Of  these  four,  the  first  and  last  mentioned  are  with 
extreme  difficulty  understood  ;  the  two  middle,  easily. 
For  a  rare  and  too  "lofty  vision  is  it  to  behold 
Thy  Eternity,  O  Lord,  unchangeably  making  things 
changeable,  and  thereby  before  them.  And  who, 
again,  is  of  so  sharpsighted  understanding,  as  to  be 
able,  without  great  pains,  to  discern  how  the  sound 
is  before  the  tune  ?  Because  a  tune  is  a  formed 
sound  ;  and  a  thing  not  formed,  may  exist ;.  whereas, 
that  which  existeth  not  cannot  be  formed.  Thus  is 
the  matter  before  the  thing  made;  not  because  it 
maketh  it,  seeing  itself  is  rather  made ;  nor  is  it  be- 
fore by  interval  of  time ;  for  we  do  not  first  in  time 
utter  formless  sounds  without  singing,  and  subse- 
quently adapt  or  fashion  them  into  the  form  of  a  chant, 
as  wood  or  silver,  whereof  a  chest  or  vessel  is  fash- 
ioned. For  such  materials  do  by  time  also  precede 
the  forms  of  the  things  made  of  them ;  but  in  singing, 
it  is  not  so :  for  when  it  is  sung,  its  sound  is  heard ; 
for  there  is  not  first  a  formless  sound,  which  is  after- 
wards formed  into  a  chant.  For  each  sound,  as  soon 


368  Relation  of  matter  to  form. 

as  made,  passeth  away,  nor  canst  thou  find  aught  to 
recall  and  by  art  to  compose.  So  then  the  chant  is 
concentrated  in  its  sound,  which  sound  is  its  matter. 
And  this  indeed  is  formed,  that  it  may  be  a  tune; 
and  therefore,  as  I  said,  the  matter  of  the  sound  is 
before  the  form  of  the  tune;  not  before,  through  any 
power  it  hath  to  make  it  a  tune ;  for  a  sound  is  no 
way  the  work-master  of  the  tune,  but  it  is  some- 
thing corporeal,  subjected  to  the  soul  which  singeth, 
whereof  to  make  a  tune.  Nor  is  it  first  in  time,  for 
it  is  given  forth  together  with  the  tune ;  nor  first  in 
choice,  for  a  sound  is  not  better  than  a  tune,  a  tune 
being  not  only  a  sound,  but  a  -beautiful  sound.  But 
it  is  first  in  origin  or  order  of  nature,  because  a  tune 
receives  not  form  to  become  a  sound,  but  a  sound  re- 
ceives a  form  to  become  a  tune.  By  this  example,  let 
him  that  is  able  understand  how  the  matter  of  things 
was  first  made,  and  called  heaven  and  earth,  because 
heaven  and  earth  were  made  out  of  it.  Yet  was  it 
not  made  first  in  time,  because  the  forms  of  things 
give  rise  to  time.  It  was  without  form;  but  now  is 
in  time,  an  object  of  sense,  together  with  its  form. 
And  yet  nothing  can  be  related  of  that  chaotic  mat- 
ter, without  considering  it  prior  in  time,  whereas  in 
value  it  is  last  (because  things  formed  are  superior 
to  things  without  form),  and  is  preceded  by  the  Eter- 
nity of  the  Creator  ;  that  so  there  might  be  some- 
thing out  of  nothing,  whereof  something  might  be 
formed. 

XXX.   41.  In  this  diversity  of  true  opinions,  let 
Truth  herself  produce  concord,  and  our  God  have 


Charity  the  end. of  Biblical  studies.         3C9 

mercy  upon  us,  that  we  may  use  the  law  lawfully,  the 
end  of  the  commandment,  pure  charity.  By  this,  if 
a  man  demands  of  me :  "  Which  of  these  was  the 
meaning  of  Thy  servant  Moses?"  it  were  not  the 
language  of  my  Confessions,  should  I  not  confess 
unto  Thee,  "  I  know  not ; "  and  yet  I  know  that 
those  senses  are  true,  those  carnal  ones  excepted,  of 
which  I  have  spoken  what  seemed  necessary.  And 
the  words  of  Thy  Book,  delivering  high  things  low- 
lily,  and  with  few  words  a. copious  meaning,  affright 
not  thy  hopeful  little  ones,  nor  those  who  see  and  ex- 
press the  truth,  delivered  in  the  words  Let  us  love 
one  another,  and  equally  love  Thee  our  God,  the  foun- 
tain of  truth,  if  we  are  athirst  for  it  and  not  for  vani- 
ties. Yea,  let  us  so  honor  Thy  servant  Moses,  the 
dispenser  of  this  Scripture,  full  of  Thy  Spirit,  as  to 
believe  that,  when  by  Thy  revelation  he  wrote  these 
things,  he  intended  that  sense  which  among  them  all 
chiefly  excels,  both  for  light  of  truth,  and  fruitfulness 
of  profit. 

XXXI.  42.  So  when  one  says,  "  Moses  meant  as 
I  do,"  and  another,  "  Nay,  but  as  I  do,"  I  suppose 
that  I  speak  more  reverently :  "  Why  not  rather  as 
both,  if  both  be  true?  "  And  if  there  be  a  third,  or 
a  fourth,  yea,  if  any  other  seeth  any  other  truth  in 
those  words,  why  may  not  he  be  believed  to  have 
seen  all  these,  through  whom  the  One  God  hath  tem- 
pered the  holy  Scriptures  to  the  senses  of  many,  who 
should  see  therein  things  true  but  divers  ?  For  cer- 
tainly (and  fearlessly  I  speak  it  from  my  heart), 
were  I  to  indite  anything  to  have  supreme  author- 


370  Moses  meant  all  that  can 

ity,  I  should  prefer  so  to  write,  that  whatever  truth 
any  could  apprehend  on  those  matters,  might  be  in- 
cluded in  my  words,  rather  than  set  down  my  own 
meaning  so  clearly  as  to  exclude  the  rest,  which  not 
being  false  could  not  offend  me.  I  will  not,  therefore, 
O  my  God,  be  so  rash  as  not  to  believe  that  Thou 
vouchsafedst  as  much  to  that  great  man.  He,  with- 
out doubt,  when  he  wrote  those  words,  perceived  and 
thought  on  what  truth  soever  we  have  been  able  to 
find,  yea,  and  whatsoever  we  have  not  been  able,  nor 
yet  are,  but  which  may  be  found  in  them. 

XXX.  43.  Lastly,  O  Lord,  who  art  God  and  not 
flesh  and  blood,  if  man  did  see  less,  could  anything 
be  concealed  from  Tliy  good  Spirit  (Who  shall  lead 
me  into  the  land  of  uprightness),  which  Thou  Thy- 
self, by  those  words,  wert  about  to  reveal  to  readers 
in  time  to  come,  even  though  he  through  whom  they 
were  spoken,  perhaps,  among  many  true  meanings, 
thought  on  only  one?  Which,  if  so  it  be,  let  that 
which  he  thought  on  be  of  all  the  highest.  But  to  us, 
O  Lord,  do  Thou  either  reveal  that  same,  or  any 
other  true  thing  which  Thou  pleasest;  that  so, 
whether  Thou  discoverest  the  same  truth  to  us,  as  to 
that  servant  of  Thine,  or  some  other  by  occasion  of 
those  words,  yet  Thou  mayest  feed  us,  not  error  de- 
ceive us.  Behold,  O  Lord  my  God,  how  much  I  have 
written  upon  a  few  words,  how  much  I  beseech  Thee ! 
"NVhat  strength  of  ours,  yea,  what  ages  would  suffice 
for  all  Thy  books  in  this  manner  ?  Permit  me,  then, 
more  briefly  to  confess  unto  Thee,  and  to  choose  some 
one  true,  certain,  and  good  sense  which  Thou  shalt 


logically  be  found  in  his  words.  371 

inspire,  although  many  should  occur,  where  many  may 
occur ;  this  being  the  law  of  my  confession,  that  if  I 
should  say  that  which  Thy  servant  Moses  intended, 
that  is  right  and  best.  For  this  should  I  endeavor, 
and  if  I  should  not  attain  it,  yet  I  should  say  what 
Thy  Truth  willed  by  words  to  tell  me,  which  revealed 
also  unto  him  what  It  willed. 


THE  THIRTEENTH  BOOK. 


CONTINUATION  OF  THE  EXPOSITION  Of  GENESIS  I.  —  IT  CONTAINS  THB 
MYSTERY  OF  THE  TRINITY,  AND  A  TYPE  OP  THE  FORMATION.  EX- 
TENSION, AND  SUPPORT  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


I.  1.  I  call  upon  Thee,  O  my  God,  my  Mercy, 
Who  didst  create  me,  and  forgat  not  me  who  forgat 
Thee.  I  call  Thee  into  my  soul,  which,  by  the  long- 
ing Thyself  inspirest  into  it,  Thou  prepares!  for  Thee. 
Forsake  me  not  now,  as  I  call  unto  Thee,  whom  Thou 
didst  prevent  before  I  called,  and  urged  me  with 
much  variety  of  repeated  calls,  that  I  would  hear 
Thee  from  afar,  and  be  converted,  and  call  upon 
Thee,  who  didst  call  after  me.  For  Thon,  Lord, 
didst  blot  out  all  my  evil  deservings,  so  as  not  to  rec- 
ompense into  my  hands  wherewith  I  fell  from  Thee ; 
and  Thou  hast  prevented  all  my  well  deservings,  so 
as  to  recompense  the  work  of  Thy  hands  wherewith 
Thou  madest  me.  Because,  before  I  was,  Thou  wert ; 
nor  was  I  anything,  to  which  Thou  mightest  grant  to 
be.  And  yet  behold,  I  am,  out  of  Thy  goodness  pre- 
venting all  this  which  Thou  hast  made  me,  and 
whereof  Thou  hast  made  me.  For  neither  hadst 
Thou  need  of  me,  nor  am  I  any  such  good  as  to  be 
helpful  unto  Thee,  my  Lord  and  God :  not  in  serving 


All  creatures  subsist  by  Divine  goodness.     373 

Thee,  as  though  Thou  wouldest  tire  in  working,  or  lest 
Thy  power  might  be  less,  if  lacking  ray  service,  nor 
cultivating  as  a  land,  Thy  service,  which  must  remain 
uncultivated,  unless  I  cultivate  Thee  ;*  but  serving  and 
worshipping  Thee,  that  I  might  receive  well-being 
from  Thee  from  whom  it  comes  that  I  have  a  being 
capable  of  well-being. 

]J.  2.  For  of  the  fulness  of  Thy  goodness  doth 
Thy  creature  subsist,  that  so  a  good,  which  could  no 
ways  profit  Thee,  nor  was  of  Thy  substance  (lest  so 
it  should  be  equal  to  Thee),  might  yet  exist,  since  it 
could  be  made  by  Thy  power.  For  what  did  heaven 
and  earth^  which  Thou  madest  in  the  Beginning, 
deserve  of  Thee  ?  Let  those  spiritual  and  corporeal 
natures,  which  Thou  madest  in  Thy  Wisdom,  say 
wherein  they  deserved  of  Thee  to  depend  upon  Thy 
"Word,  in  their  inchoate  and  formless  state,  whether 
spiritual  or  corporeal,  and  liable  to  fall  away  into  an 
immoderate  liberty  and  far-distant  unlikeness  to  Thee 
(the  spiritual,  though  without  form,  superior  to  the 
corporeal  though  formed,  and  the  corporeal  without 
form,  better  than  were  it  altogether  nothing),  unless 
by  the  same  Word  they  were  brought  back  to-  Thy 
Unity,  indued  with  form,  and  from  Thee  the  One 
Sovereign  Good  were  made  all  very  good.  How  did 
they  deserve  of  Thee,  to  be  even  without  form,  since 
they  had  not  been  even  this  but  from  Thee  ? 

3.  How  did  corporeal  matter  deserve  of  Thee  to  be 
even  invisible  and  without  form  f  It  had  not  been 

l  "Neque  ut  sic  te  colam,  quasi  terram,  ut  sis  iucultus,  si  non  te 
colam." 


374  Interpretation  of  Gen.  i.  3. 

even  this,  but  that  Thou  madest  it ;  and,  therefore,  not 
being,  it  could  not  deserve  of  Thee  to  be  made.  Or 
how  could  the  inchoate  spiritual  creature  deserve  of 
Thee  even  to  ebb  and  flow  darksomely  like  the 
deep,  unlike  Thee,  unless  it  had  been  by  the  same 
Word  turned  to  Him  by  Whom  it  was  created,  and 
by  Him  so  enlightened,  become  light;  though  not 
equally,  yet  conformably  to  that  Form  which  is  equal 
unto  Thee  ?  For  as  in  a  body,  to  be,  is  not  one  with 
being  beautiful,  else  could  a  body  not  be  deformed ; 
so  likewise  to  a  created  spirit  to  live,  is  not  one  with 
living  wisely,  else  should  it  be  wise  unchangeably. 
But  it  is  good  for  it  always  to  hold  fast  to  Thee,; 
lest  what  light  it  hath  obtained  by  turning  to  Thee, 
it  lose  by  turning  from  Thee,  and  relapse  into  a  life 
resembling  the  darksome  deep.  For  I,  myself,  who  as 
to  the  soul  am  a  spiritual  creature,  but  turned  away 
from  Thee,  the  Light,  was  in  that  life  sometimes  dark- 
ness;  and  still  I  labor  amidst  the  relics  of  darkness, 
until,  in  Thy  Only  One,  I  become  TJiy  righteousness, 
like  the  mountains  of  God;  even  as  I  have  been  Thy 
judgments,  which  are  like  the  great  deep} 

III.  4.  That  which  Thou  saidst  in  the  beginning  of 
the  creation,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light,  I 
understand  of  the  spiritual  creature  ;  because  there 
was  already  a  sort  of  life,  which  Thou  mightest  illu- 
minate. But  as  it  had  no  claim  on  Thee  for  a  life 
which  could  be  enlightened,  so  neither  now,  that  it 
was  alone,  had  it  any  claim  to  be  enlightened.  For 
its  formless  estate  could  not  be  pleasing  unto  Thee, 

1  Ps.  xxxv.  7,  Septuagint  ver. 


The  creator  does  not  need  the  creature.       375 

unless  it  became  light ;  and  that  not  by  existing  sim- 
ply, but  by  beholding  the  illuminating  light,  and  cleav- 
ing to  it,  so  that  its  living  and  living  happily  it  owes 
to  nothing  but  Thy  grace ;  being  by  a  better  change 
turned  unto  That  which  cannot  be  changed  into  worse 
or  better ;  which  Thou  alone  art,  because  Thou  alone 
simply  art :  unto  Thee  it  being  not  one  thing  to  live, 
another  to  live  blessedly,  seeing  Thyself  art  Thine 
own  Blessedness. 

IV.  5.  What  would  be  wanting  unto  Thy  good, 
which  Thou  Thyself  art,  even  had  these  things  never 
been  at  all,  or  had  they  remained  without  form  f 
Thou  madest  them,  not  out  of  any  want,  but  out  of 
the  fulness  of  Thy  goodness,  restraining  and  con  veil- 
ing them  to  form,  as  though  Thy  joy  were  fulfilled 
by  them.  For  to  Thee,  being  perfect,  their  imperfec- 
tions were  displeasing,  and  hence  were  they  perfected 
by  Thee,  and  pleased  Thee.  Not  that  Thou  wert  im- 
perfect, and  by  their  perfecting  wert  to  be  perfected. 
For  Thy  good  Spirit,  indeed,  was  borne  over  the  tca- 
ters,  not  borne  up  by  them,  as  if  He  rested  upon  them. 
For  those  on  whom  Thy  good  Spirit  is  said  to  rest, 
He  causes  to  rest  in  Himself.  But  Thy  incorruptible 
and  unchangeable  will,  in  itself  all-sufficient  for  itself, 
was  borne  upon  that  life  which  Thou  hadst  created ; 
to  which,  living  is  not  one  with  happy  living,  seeing 
it  liveth,  ebbing  and  flowing  in  its  own  darkness ; 
wherefore  it  remaineth  to  be  converted  unto  Him  by 
Whom  it  was  made,  and  to  live  more  and  more  at 
the  fountain  of  life,  and  in  His  light  to  see  liyht, 
and  to  be  perfected,  and  enlightened,  and  beautified. 


376  The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 

"V.  6.  Lo,  now  the  Trinity  appears  unto  me  in  a 
glass  darkly,  which  is  Thou,  my  God  ;  because  Thou, 
O Father,  didst  create  heaven  and  earth  in  Him  "Who 
is  tlie  Beginning  of  our  wisdom,  Which  is  Thy  "Wis- 
dom, of  Thyself,  equal  unto  Thee  and  coeternal,  that 
is,  Thy  Son.  Much  now  have  we  said  of  the  heaven, 
of  heavens,  and  of  the  earth  invisible  and  without 
form,  and  of  the  darksome  deep,  in  reference  to  the 
wandering  instability  of  its  spiritual  deformity;  which, 
converted  unto  Him  from  Whom  it  had  its  first  de- 
gree of  life,  and  enlightened  by  Him,  became  &  beau- 
teous life,  and  the  heaven  set  between  water  and  water. 
And  under  the  name  of  God,  I  now  held  the  Father, 
Who  made  these  things,  and  under  the  name  of  Be- 
ginning,1 the  Son,  in  whom  He  made  these  things; 
and  believing,  as  I  did,  my  God  as  the  Trinity,  I 
searched  further  in  His  holy  words,  and  lo,  Thy 
Spirit  moved  upon  the  ^caters.  Behold  the  Trinity, 
my  God,  Father  and  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  Creator  of 
all  creation. 

VI.  7.  But  what  was  the  cause,  O  true-speaking 
Light  (unto  Thee  I  lift  up  my  heart,  let  it  not  tench 
me  vanities,  dispel  its  darkness,  and  tell  me),  I  be- 
seech Thee  by  our  mother  charity,  tell  me  the  reason, 
I  beseech  Thee,  why  after  the  mention  of  heaven,  and 
of  the  earth  invisible  and  without  form,  and  darkness 
upon  the  deep,  Thy  Scripture  should  then  at  length 


1  "  Under  the  name  The  Beginning,  we  understand  the  Son,  who  is  a 
Beginning  not  to  the  Father,  but  to  the  creature,  created  by  Himself." 
Augustine,  De  Genesi  ad  literam  I.  vi.  Opera,  Tom.  III.  p.  503.  Ed. 
Bas.  1569. 


taught  in  Genesis  I.  377 


mention  Thy  Spirit?  Was  it  because  it  was  meet 
that  the  knowledge  of  Him  should  be  conveyed,  as 
being  "  borne  above ; "  and  this  could  not  be  said, 
uiriess  that  were  first  mentioned,  over  which  Thy 
Spirit  may  be  understood  to  have  been  borne?  For 
neither  was  He  borne  above  the  Father,  nor  the  Son, 
nor  could  He  rightly  be  said  to  be  borne  above,  if  He 
were  borne  over  nothing.  First,  then,  was  that  to  be 
spoken  of,  over  which  He  might  be  borne ;  and  then 
He,  whom  it  was  meet  not  otherwise  to  be  spoken  of 
than  as  being  borne.  But  wherefore  was  it  not  meet 
that  th^  knowledge  of  Him  should  be  conveyed  other- 
wise, than  as  being  borne  above? 

VII.  8.  Hence  let  biro  that  is  able,  follow  with  his 
understanding  Thy  Apostle,  where  he  thus  speaks, 
Because  Tliy  love  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  which  is  given  unto  us;1  and  where, 
concerning  spiritual  gifts,  he  teacheth,  and  showeth 
unto  us  a  more  excellent  way  of  charity  ;2  and  where 
he  bows  his  knee  unto  Thee  for  us,  that  we  may  know 
the  supereminent  knowledge  of  the  love  of  Christ? 
And  therefore  from  the  beginning,  was  He  borne  su- 
pereminent above  the  waters.  To  whom  shall  I  speak 
this  ?  how  speak  of  the  weight  of  evil  desires,  down- 
wards to  the  steep  abyss,  and  how  charity  rises  up 
again  by  Thy  Spirit  which  was  borne  above  the  waters? 
To  whom  shall  I  speak  it  ?  How  shall  I  speak  it  ? 
Are  we  submerged,  and  do  we  emerge  ?  Certainly,  it 
is  not  in  space  that  we  are  submerged  and  emerge. 
"What  can  be  more  like,  and  yet  what  less  like  ?  They 

l  Rom.  v.  6  21  Cor.  xii.  31.  3  Eph.  iii.  14, 19 


378  Tlie  elect  angels  kept  from  apostasy. 

• 

are  affections,  they  are  loves ;  the  uncleanness  of  our 
spirit  flowing  downwards  with  the  love  of  cares,  and 
the  holiness  of  Thy  Spirit  raising  us  upward  by  love 
of  unauxions  repose,  that  we  may  lift  our  hearts  unto 
Thee,  where  Thy  Spirit  is  borne  above  the  waters,  and 
come  to  that  superemiuent  repose,  when  our  soul  shall 
have  passed  through  the  waters  which  yield  no  support. 
VII.  9.  Angels  fell  away,  man's  soul  fell  away,  and 
thereby  pointed  out  the  abyss  in  that  dark  depth, 
ready  for  the  whole  spiritual  creation,  hadst  not  Thou 
said  from  the  beginning,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there 
had  been  light,  and  every  obedient  intelligence  of 
Thy  heavenly  city  had  cleaved  to  Thee,  and  rested  in 
Thy  Spirit,  Which  is  borne  unchangeably  over  every 
thing  changeable.  Otherwise,  even  the  heaven  of 
heavens  had  been  in  itself  a  darksome  deep;  but  now 
if  is  light  in  the  Lord.  For  even  in  that  miserable 
restlessness  of  the  spirits  who  fell  away,  and  discov- 
ered their  own  darkness  when  bared  of  the  clothing 
of  Thy  light,  dost  thou  sufficiently  reveal  how  noble 
Thou  madest  the  reasonable  creature ;  to  which  noth- 
ing will  suffice  to  yield  a  happy  rest,  less  than  Thee, 
and  so  not  even  herself.  For  Thou  O  our  God,  shalt 
ligMen  our  darkness;  from  Thee  cometh  our  gar- 
ment of  light,  and  our  darkness  shall  be  as  the  noon- 
day. Give  Thyself  unto  me,  O  my  God,  restore 
Thyself  unto  me ;  behold  I  love,  and  if  it  be  too 
little,  I  would  love  more  strongly.  I  cannot  measure 
so  as  to  know,  how  much  love  there  yet  lacketh  to 
me,  ere  my  life  may  run  into  Thy  embracements,  nor 
turn  away  until  it  be  hidden  in  the  hidden  place  of 


God,  the  soul's  rest.  379 

Thy  presence.  This  only  I  kno\v,  that  woe  is  me, 
except  in  Thee,  not  only  without  but  within  myself 
also ;  and  all  abundance  which  is  not  my  God,  is 
emptiness  to  me. 

IX.  10.  But  was  not  either  the  Father  or  the  Son 
borne  above  the  icaters?  If  this  means,  in  space,  like 
a  body,  then  neither  was  the  Holy  Spirit ;  but  if  it 
means  the  unchangeable  supereminence  of  Divinity 
above  all  things  changeable,  then  were  both  Father, 
and  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  borne  upon  the  waters. 
Why  then  is  this  said  of  Thy  Spirit  only?  Why  is 
it  said  only  of  Him,  as  if  He  had  been  in  space,  who 
is  not  in  space;  of  whom  only  it  is  written,  that  He 
is  Thy  Gift?  In  Thy  Gift  we  rest;  there  we  enjoy 
Thee.  Our  rest  is  our  space.  Love  lifts  us  up 
thither,  and  Thy  Good  Spirit  lifts  up  our  lowliness 
from  the  gates  of  death.  In  Thy  good  pleasure  is 
our  peace.  The  body  by  its  own  weight  strives 
towards  its  own  place.  Weight  tends  not  down- 
ward only,  but  to  its  own  proper  place.  Fire  tends 
upward,  a  stone  downward.  They  are  urged  by 
their  own  weight,  they  seek  their  own  places.  Oil 
poured  below  water,  is  raised  above  the  water; 
water  poured  upon  oil,  sinks  below  the  oil.  They 
are  urged  by  their  own  weights  to  seek  their  own 
places.  When  out  of  their  order,  they  are  restless ; 
restored  to  order,  they  are  at  rest.  My  weight  is  my 
love ;  thereby  am  I  borne  whithersoever  I  am  borne. 
We  are  inflamed  by  Thy  Gift,  Thy  Spirit,  and  are 
carried  upwards;  we  glow  inwardly,  and  go  for- 
wards. We  ascend  Thy  ascents  that  be  in  our  heart, 


380  Existence,  cognition,  and  icill  ar'e 

and  sing  a  song  of  degrees.  We  glow  inwardly  with 
Thy  fire,  with  Thy  good  fire,  and  we  go,  because  we 
go  upwards  to  the  peace  of  Jerusalem ;  for  glad- 
dened was  I  in  those  who  said  unto  me,  We  will  go 
up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord.1  There  hath  Thy  good 
pleasure  placed  us,  that  we  may  desire  nothing  else, 
but  to  abide  there  forever. 

X.  11.  Blessed  creatui-e,  which,  being  itself  other 
than  Thou,  has  known  no  other  condition,  than  that, 
so  soon  as  it  was  made,  it  was,  without  any  interval, 
by  Thy  Gift,  Which  is  borne  above  every  thing 
changeable,  borne  aloft  by  that  calling  whereby  Thou 
saidst,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  icas  light! 
Whereas,  in  us  men, this  took  place  at  different  times, 
in  that  we  were  darkness,  and  are  made  light.  But  of 
that  unfallen  creature,  is  only  said  what  it  would  have 
been,  had  it  not  been  enlightened ;  and  it  is  so  said,  as 
if  it  had  been  unsettled  and  darksome  before ;  that  so 
the  cause  whereby  it  was  made  otherwise,  might  ap- 
pear, namely,  that,  being  turned  to  the  Light  unfail- 
ing, it  became  light.  Whoso  can,  let  him  understand 
this;  and  whoso  cannot,  let  him  ask  of  Thee.  Why 
should  he  trouble  me,  as  if  I  could  enlighten  any 
man  that  cometh  into  this  world  f 

XL  12.  Who  of  us  comprehends  the  Almighty 
Trinity  ?  And  yet  who  of  us  speaks  not  of  it,  if  in- 
deed it  be  an  it?  Rare  is  the  soul,  which,  while  it 
speaks  of  it,  knows  what  it  speaks  of.  Men  contend 
and  strive,  yet,  without  peace;  no  man  sees  that  vis- 
ion. I  would  that  men  would  consider  these  three 

l  Tealm  cxxii.  1. 


inscrutable  symbols  of  the  Trinity.  381 

things,  that  are  in  themselves.  These  three  are  in* 
deed  far  other  than  the  Trinity;  I  do  but  tell,  where 
men  may  search  themselves,  and  prove,  and  feel  how 
far  they  are  from  it.  Xow  the  three  things  I  spake 
of,  are,  To  Be,  to  Know,  and  to  Will.  For  I  Am, 
and  Know,  and  Will;  I  Am  Knowing  and  Willing; 
and  I  Know  myself  to  Be,  and  to  Will;  and  I  Will 
to  Be,  and  to  Know.  In  these  three,  then,  let  him 
discern  how  inseparable  a  life  there  is,  yea,  one  life, 
one  mind,  and  one  essence;  yea,  lastly,  how  insepar- 
able a  distinction  there  is,  and  yet  a  distinction. 
Surely  a  man  hath  it  before  him ;  let  him  look  into 
himself,  and  see,  and  tell  me.  But  when  he  discov- 
ers and  can  say  anything  of  these,  let  him  not  there- 
fore think  that  he  has  found  that  which  is  above 
these  Unchangeable;  which  Is  unchangeably,  and 
Knows  unchangeably,  and  Wills  unchangeably. 
And  whether,  because  of  these  three,  there  is  in 
God  also  a  Trinity,  or  whether  all  three  be  in  Each, 
so  that  the  three  belong  to  Each ;  or  whether  (both 
ways  at  once)  \vondrously,  simply,  and  yet  man- 
ifoldly, the  Essence  itself  is  a  bound  unto  itself 
within  itself,  yet  unbounded,  whereby  it  Is,  and  is 
Known  unto  itself,  and  sufficeth  to  itself,  unchange- 
ably the  Self-same  by  the  abundant  greatness  of  its 
Unity,  —  who  can  readily  conceive  this?  Who  could, 
any  ways  express  it?  Who  would,  any  way,  pro- 
nounce thereon  rashly  ? 

XII.    13.   Proceed   in   thy  confession;  say,  O  my 
faith,  to   the   Lord  thy  God,  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  0 
Lord  my  God,  in  Thy  Name  have  we  been  baptized, 
27 


382  Allegorical  interpretations  of 

Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost;  in  Thy  Name  do  we 
baptize,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost;  because 
among  us,  also,  in  His  Christ  did  God  make  heaven 
and  earth,  namely,  the  spiritual  and  carnal  people  of 
His  Church.  Yea,  and  our  earth,  before  it  received 
the  form  of  doctrine,  was  invisible  and  without 
form  ;  and  we  were  covered  with  the  darkness  of  ig- 
norance. For  Thou  chastenedst  man  for  iniquity, 
and  Thy  judgments  icere  like  the  great  deep  unto  him. 
But  because  Thy  Spirit  was  borne  above  the  waters, 
Thy  mercy  forsook  not  our  misery,  and  Thou  saidst, 
Let  there  be  light.  Repent  ye,  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand.  Repent  ye,  let  there  be  light.  And 
because  our  sold  was  troubled  within  us,  we  remem- 
bered Thee,  0  Lord,  from  the  land  of  Jordan,  and 
that  mountain  equal  unto  Thyself,  but  little  for  our 
sakes;  and  our  darkness  displeased  us,  we  turned 
unto  Thee,  and  there  was  light.  And,  behold,  we- 
were  sometimes  darkness,  but  now  light  in  the  Lord. 
XIII.  14.  But,  as  yet  we  are  such  by  faith  and 
not  by  sight;  for  by  hope  we  are  saved,  but  hope  that 
is  seen,  is  not  hope.  As  yet  doth  deep  call  unto  deep, 
but  now  in  the  voice  of  Thy  water-spouts.  As  yet 
doth  lie  that  saith,  I  could  not  speak  unto  you  as 
unto  spiritual,  but  as  unto  carnal,  even  he  as  yet 
doth  not  think  himself  to  have  apprehended,  undfor- 
getteth  those  things  which  are  behind,  and  reacheth 
forth  to  those  which  are  before,  and  groaneth,  being 
burdened,  and  his  soul  thirsteth  after  the  Living 
God,  as  the  hart  after  the  water-brooks,  and  saith, 
When  shall  I  come  f  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon 


various  portions  of  Scripture.  383 

with  his  house  which  is  from  heaven,  and  calleth 
upon  this  lower  deep,  saying,  Be  not  conformed  to 
this  world,  but  be  ye  transformed  by  the  renewing  of 
your  mind,  and,  be  not  children  in  understanding, 
but  in  malice  be  ye  children,  that  in  understanding 
ye  may  be  perfect,  and,  0  foolish  Galatians,  who 
hath  bewitched  you?  But  now  no  longer  does  he 
speak  in  his  own  voice,  but  in  Thine,  Who  sentest 
Thy  Spirit  from  above,  through  Him  who  ascended 
up  on  high,  and  set  open  the  flood-gates  of  his  gifts, 
that  the  force  of  His  streams  might  make  glad  the 
city  of  God.  Him  doth  this  friend  'of  the  bride- 
grobm  sigh  after,  having  now  the  Jirst-fruits  of  the 
Spirit  laid  up  with  Him,  yet  still  groaning  within 
himself,  waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wit,  the  redemp- 
tion of  his  body  ;  to  Him  he  sighs,  a  member  of  the 
Bride  /  for  Him  he  is  jealous,  as  being  a  friend  of  the 
Bridegroom  ;  for  Him  he  is  jealous,  not  for  himself; 
because  in  the  voice  of  Thy  water-spouts,  not  in  his 
own  voice,  doth  he  call  to  that  other  depth,  over 
whom  being  jealous,  he  feareth,  lest  as  the  serpent 
beguiled  Eve  through  his  subtilty,  so  their  minds 
should  be  corrupted  from  the  purity  that  is  in  our 
Bridegroom,  Thy  Only  Son.  O  what  a  light  cf 
beauty  will  that  be,  when  we  shall  see  Him' as  He  is, 
and  those  tears  be  passed  away,  which  have  been  my 
meat  day  and  night,  whilst  they  daily  say  unto  me, 
Where  is  noio  thy  God? 

XIV.  15.  And  I,  too,  say:  O  my  God,  where  art 
Thou  ?  Behold  where  Thou  art.  In  Thee  I  breathe 
a  little,  when  I  pour  out  my  soul  by  myself  in  the 


384  Allegorical  interpretations  of 

voice  of  joy  and  praise,  the  voice  of  him  that  keeps 
holy-day.  And  yet  again,  the  soul  is  sad,  because  it 
relapses,  and  becomes  a  deep,  or  rather  perceives  it- 
self still  to  be  a  deep.  Unto  it  speaks  my  faith, 
which  Thou  hast  kindled  to  enlighten  my  feet  in  the 
night,  Why  art  thou  sad,  0  my  soul,  and  why  dost 
thou  trouble  me?  Hope  in  the  Lord.  His  icord  is  a 
lantern  unto  thy  feet.  Hope  and  endure,  until  the 
night,  the  mother  of  the  wicked,  until  the  icrath  of 
the  Lord,  be  overpast,  whereof  we  also  were  once 
children,  who  were  sometimes  darkness,  relics  whereof 
we  bear  about  us  in  our  body,  dead  because  of  sin, 
until  the  day  break,  and  the  shadows  fly  away. 
Hope  thou  in  the  Lord.  In  the  morning  I  shall  stand 
in  Thy  presence,  and  contemplate  Thee;  I  shall  for 
ever  confess  unto  Thee.  In  the  morning  I  shall 
stand  in  Thy  presence,  and  shall  see  the  health  of 
my  countenance,  my  God  ;  Who  also  shall  quicken 
our  mortal  bodies,  by  the  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  us, 
because  He  hath  in  mercy  been  borne  over  our  inner 
darksome  and  floating  deep  ;  from  Whom  we  have 
in  this  pilgrimage  received  an  earnest,  that  we  should 
now  be  light,  whilst  we  are  saved  by  hope,  and  are 
the  children  of  light,  and  the  children  of  the  day,  not 
the  children  of  the  night,  nor  of  the  darkness,  which 
yet  sometimes  we  were.  Betwixt  whom  and  us,  in 
this  uncertainty  of  human  knowledge,  Thou  only  di- 
videst ;  Thou,  who  provest  our  hearts,  and  callest  the 
light  day,  and  the  darkness  night.  For  who  discern- 
etli  us,  but  Thou  ?  And  what  have  we,  that  ice  have 
not  received  of  Thee  ?  out  of  tJie  same  lump  vessels 


various  portions  of  Scripture.  385 

unto  honor,  whereof  others  also  are  made  unto  dis- 
honor. 

XV.  16.  Or  who,  except  Thou,  our  God,  made  for 
us  that  firmament  of  authority  over  us  in  Thy  divine 
Scripture  ?  For  it  is  said,  the  heaven  shall  be  folded 
up  like  a  scroll  (liber) ;  and  now  is  it  stretched  over 
us  like  a  skin.  For  Thy  Divine  Scripture  is  of  more 
eminent  authority,  since  those  mortals  by  whom  Thou 
dispensest  it  unto  us,  underwent  mortality.  And 
Thou  knowest,  Lord,  Thou  knowest,  how  Thou  with 
skins  didst  clothe  men,  when  they  by  sin  became  mor- 
tal. Hence  Thou  hast  like  a  skin  stretched  out  the 
firmament  of  Thy  book  (liber),  that  is,  Thy  harmon- 
izing words,  which  by  the  ministry  of  mortal  men 
Thou  spreadest  over  us.  For,  by  their  very  death, 
was  that  solid  firmament  of  authority,  which  was  in 
Thy  discourses  set  forth  by  them,  more  eminently  ex- 
tended over  all  that  be  under  it ;  which,  whilst  they 
lived  here,  was  not  so  eminently  extended.  Thou 
hadst  not  as  yet  spread  abroad  the  heaven  like  a 
skin  ;  Thou  hadst  not  as  yet  enlarged  in  all  directions 
the  glory  of  their  deaths. 

17.  Let  us  look,  O  Lord,  upon  the  heavens,  the 
work  of  TJnj  fingers  ;  clear  from  our  eyes  that  cloud 
which  Thou  hast  spread  under  them.  There  is  Thy 
testimony,  which  giveth  wisdom  unto  the  little  ones. 
Perfect,  O  my  God,  Thy  praise  out  of  the  mouth  of 
babes  and  siicklings.  For  we  know  no  other  books, 
which  so  destroy  pride,  which  so  destroy  the  enemy 
and  the  defender,  who  resists  Thy  reconciliation  by 
defending  his  own  sins.  I  know  not,  Lord,  I  know 


386  Allegorical  explanation  of  the 

not  any  other  such  pure  words,  which  so  persuade  me 
to  confess,  and  make  my  neck  pliant  to  Thy  yoke,  and 
invite  me  to  serve  Thee 'for  nought.  Let  me  under- 
stand them,  good  Father ;  grant  this  to  me,  who  am 
placed  under  them,  because  for  those  placed  under 
them,  hast  Thou  established  them. 

18.  Other  waters  there  be  above  this  firmament,  I 
believe  immortal  and  separated  from  earthly  corrup- 
tion. Let  them  praise  Thy  name,  let  them  praise 
Thee,  the  super-celestial  people,  Thine  angels,  who 
have  no  need  to  gaze  up  at  this  firmament,  or  by 
reading  to  know  of  Thy  Word.  For  they  altcays  be- 
hold Thy  face,  and- there  read  without  any  syllables 
in  time,  what  willeth  Thy  eternal  Will.  They  read, 
they  choose,  they  love ;  they  are  ever  reading,  and 
that  never  passes  away  which  they  read.  For  by 
choosing,  and  by  loving,  they  read  the  very  unchange- 
ableness  of  Thy  counsel.  Their  book  is  never  closed, 
nor  their  scroll  folded  up;  seeing  Thou  Thyself  art 
this  to  them,  and  art  eternally,  because  Thou  hast  or- 
dained them  above  this  firmament,  which  Thou  hast 
firmly  settled  over  the  infirmity  of  the  lower  people, 
where  they  might  gaze  up  and  learn  Thy  mercy,  an- 
nouncing in  time  Thee  who  madest  times.  For  Tliy 
mercy,  Lord,  is  in  the  heavens,  and  Tliy  truth  reached 
unto  the  clouds.  The  clouds  pass  away,  but  the 
heaven  abideth.  The  preachers  of  Thy  word  pass  out 
of  this  life  into  another ;  but  Thy  Scripture  is  spread 
abroad  over  the  people,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world.  Yet  heaven  and  earth  also  shall  pass  away, 
but  Thy  tcords  shall  not  pass  away.  Because  the 


firmament  and  the  waters  above  it.          387 

scroll  shall  be  rolled  together,  and  the  grass  over 
which  it  was  spread,  shall  with  the  goodliness  of  it 
pass  away;  but  Thy  word  remaineth  forever,  which 
now  appeareth  unto  us  under  the  dark  image  of  the 
clouds,  and  through  the  glass  of  the  heavens,  not  as  it 
is;  because  though  we  also  are  the  well-beloved  of 
Thy  Son,  yet  it  hath  not  yet  appeared  what  we  shall 
be.  He  looked  through  the  lattice  of  our  flesh,  and 
He  spake  us  tenderly,  and  kindled  us,  and  we  ran  af- 
ter Jits  odors.  J3ut  when  He  sJiaU  appear,  then  shall 
we  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is.  As 
He  is,  Lord,  so  will  our  sight  be. 

XVI.  19.  For,  altogether  and,  wholly  what  Thou 
art,  Thou  only  knowest,  Who  art  unchangeably,  and 
knowest  unchangeably,   and   wiliest  unchangeably. 
And  Thy  Essence  Knows,  and  Wills  unchangeably; 
and  Thy  Knowledge  Is,  and  Wills  unchangeably; 
and  Thy  Will  Is,  and  Knows  unchangeably.     Nor 
seems  it  fitting  in  Thine  eyes,  that  as  the  Unchange- 
able Light  knows  Itself,  so  should  it  be  known  by 
the  thing  enlightened  and  changeable.     Therefore  is 
my  soid  like  a  land  where  no  water  is,  because,  as  it 
cannot  of  itself  enlighten  itself,  so  can  it  not  of  it- 
self satisfy  itself.     For  the  fountain  of  life  is  with 
Thee,  in  such  a  way  that  in  Thy  light  we  shall  see 
light. 

XVII.  20.  Who  gathered  the  embittered  children 
of  men  together  into  one  society  ?    (For  they  have  all 
one  end,  a  temporal  and  earthly  felicity,  for  attaining 
whereof  they  do  all  things,  though  they  waver  up 
and   down  with  an  innumerable  variety  of  cares.) 


388  Allegorical  explanation  of  the 

Who,  Lord,  but  Thou,  Who  saidst,  Let  the  waters  be 
gathered  together  into  one  place,  and  let  the  dry  land 
appear,  which  thirsteth  after  Thee  f  Because  tfie  sea 
also  is  Thine,  and  Thou  hast  made  it,  and  Thy  hands 
prepared  the  dry  land.  Nor  is  the  bitterness  of  men's 
wills,  but  the  gathering  together  of  the  waters,  called 
sea.  For  Thou  restrainest  the  wicked  desires  of  men's 
souls,  and  settest  them  their  bounds,  how  far  they  may 
be  allowed  to  pass,  that  their  waves  may  break  one 
against  another ;  and  thus  inakest  Thou  it  a  sea,  by 
the  order  of  Thy  dominion  over  all  things. 

21.  But  the  souls  that  thirst  after  Thee,  and  that 
appear  before  Thee  (being  by  other  bounds  divided 
from  the  society  of  the  sea),  Thou  waterest  by  a 
sweet  spring,  that  the  earth  may  bring  forth  her 
fruit,  and,  Thou  Lord  God  so  commanding,  our  soul 
may  bud  forth  works  of  mercy  according  to  their 
kind,  loving  our  neighbor  in  the  relief  of  his  bodily 
necessities,  having  seed  in  itself  according  to  its  like- 
ness; since,  from  feeling  of  our  infirmity,  we  compas- 
sionate so  as  to  relieve  the  needy,  helping  them,  as  we 
would  be  helped,  if  we  were  in  like  need ;  and  this, 
too,  not  only  in  things  easy,  as  in  herb  yielding  seed, 
but  also  in  the  protection  of  our  assistance  with  our 
best  strength,  like  the  tree  yielding  fruit :  that  is, 
well-doing  in  rescuing  him  that  suffers  wrong,  from 
the  hand  of  the  powerful,  and  giving  him  the  shelter 
of  protection,  by  the  mighty  strength  of  just  judg- 
ment. 

XVIII.  22.  So  Lord,  so,  I  beseech  Thee,  let  there 
spring  up,  as  Thou  workest,  as  Thou  givest  cheerful- 


lights  ruling  the  day  and  night.  389 

ness  and  ability^  let  truth  spring  out  of  the  earth^and 
righteousness  look  down  from  heaven,  and  let  there  be 
lights  in  the  firmament.  Let  us  break  our  bread  to 
the  hungry,  and  bring  the  houseless  poor  to  our  house. 
Let  us  clothe  the  naked,  and  despise  not  those  of  our 
own  fiesh.  Which  fruits  having  sprung  out  of  the 
earth,  behold  it  is  good.  And  let  our  temporary 
light  break  forth;  and  ourselves,  from  this  lower 
fruitfulness  of  action,  arriving  at  the  delightfulness  of 
contemplation,  obtaining  the  Word  of  Life  above,  ap- 
pear like  lights  in  the  world,  cleaving-  to  the  firma- 
ment of  Thy  Scripture.  For  there  Thou  instructest 
as,  to  divide  between  the  things  intellectual,  and 
things  of  sense,  as  betwixt  the  day  and  the  night  /  or 
between  souls,  given  either  to  things  intellectual,  or 
to  things  of  sense  ;  so  that  now,  not  Thou  only,  in  the 
secret  of  Thy  judgment,  as  before  the  firmament  was 
made,  dividest  between  the  light  and  the  darkness,  but 
Thy  spiritual  children  -also,  set  and  ranked  in  the 
same  firmament  (now  that  Thy  grace  is  manifested 
throughout  the  world),  may  give  light  upon  the  earth, 
and  divide  betwixt  the  day  and  the  night,  and  be  for 
signs  of  times  •  because  old  things  are  passed  away, 
a  ml,  behold,  all  things  are  become  new,  and  because 
our  salvation  is  nearer  than  when  we  believed,  and  be- 
cause the  night  is  far  spent,  and  the  day  is  at  hand, 
and  because  Thou  wilt  crown  Thy  year  with  blessing, 
sending  laborers  into  Thy  harvest,  in  sowing  whereof 
others  have  labored,  sending  also  into  another  field, 
whose  harvest  shall  be  in  the  end.1  Thus  grantest 

l  Matt.  ix.  38;   John  iv.  37  <seq. 


390  Allegorical  explanation  of  the 

Thou  the  prayers  of  him  that  asketh,.and  llessest  the 
years  of  the  just  ;  but  Thou  art  the  same,  and  in  Thy 
years  which  fail  not,  Thou  preparest  a  garner  for  our 
passing  years.  For  Thou,  by  an  eternal  counsel,  dost 
in  their  proper  seasons  bestow  heavenly  blessings 
upon  the  earth.  For  to  one  is  given  by  the  Spirit 
the  word  of  wisdom,  as  it  were  the  greater  light,  for 
their  sakes  who  are  delighted  with  the  light  of  per- 
spicuous truth,  as  it  were /or  the  rule  of  the  day.  To 
another  the  word  of  knowledge  by  the  same  Spirit,  as 
it  were  the  lesser  light;  to  another  faith ;  to  another 
the  gift  of  healing  ;  to  another  the  working  of  mir- 
acles; to  another  prophecy  ;  to  another  discerning 
of  spirits;  to  another  divers  kinds  of  tongues.  And 
all  these  are  as  it  were  stars.  For  all  these  worketh 
the  one  and  self-same  Spirit,  dividing  to  every  man 
his  own  as  He  witt;  and  causing  stars  to  appear 
manifestly,  to  profit  withal.  But  the  word  of  knowl- 
edge, wherein  are  contained  all  Sacraments,  which 
are  varied  in  their  seasons,  as  it  were  the  moon,  and 
those  other  denominations  of  gifts,  which  are  reck- 
oned up  in  order,  as  it  were  stars,  inasmuch  as  they 
come  short  of  that  brightness  of  wisdom  which  glad- 
dens the  forementioned  day,  are  only  for  the  rule  of 
the  night.  For  they  are  necessary  to  such  as  those  to 
whom  Thy  most  prudent  servant  coidd  not  speak 
as  unto  spiritual,  but  as  unto  carnal;  even  he  who 
speaketh  wisdom  among  those  that  are  perfect.  But 
tJie  natural  man,  as  it  were  a  babe  in  Christ  and/ef? 
on  milk,  until  he  be  strengthened  for  solid  meat,  and 
his  eye  be  enabled  to  behold  the  Sun,  let  him  not 


lights  ruling  the  day  and  night.  391 

dwell  in  a  night  forsaken  of  all  light,  but  be  content 
with  the  light  of  the  moon  and  the  stars.  So  dost 
Thou  speak  to  us,  our  All-wise  God,  in  Thy  Book, 
Thy  firmament ;  tha*  we  may  discern  all  things,  iu 
an  admirable  contemplation ;  though  as  yet  in  signs, 
and  in  times,  and  in  days,  and  in  years. 

XIX.  24.  But  first,  wash  you,  be  ye  clean;  put 
away  evil  from  your  souls,  aud/rom  before  mine  eyes, 
that  the  dry  land  may  appear.  Learn  to  do  good, 
judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the  widow,  that  the 
earth  may  bring  forth  the  green  herb  for  meat,  and 
the  tree  bearing  fruit;  and  come,  let  us  reason  to- 
gether, saith  the  Lord,  that  there  may  be  lights  in 
the  firmament  of  the  heaven,  and  tjiey  may  shine 
itpon  the  earth.  That  rich  man  asked  of  the  good 
Master,  what  he  should  do  to  attain  everlasting  life. 
Let  the  good  Master  tell  him  (whom  he  thought  no 
more  than  man ;  but  he  is  good  because  he  is  God), 
let  Him  tell  him,  if  he  would  enter  into  life,  he  must 
keep  the  commandments /  let  him  put  away  from  him 
the  bitterness  of  malice  and  wickedness,  not  kill,  not 
commit  adultery,  not  steal,  not  bear  false  witness, 
that  the  dry  land  may  appear,  and  bring  forth  the 
honoring  of  father  and  mother,  and  the  love  of  our 
neighbor.  All  these  (saith  he)  have  I  kept.  Whence 
then  so  many  thorns,  if  the  earth  be  fruitful  ?  Go, 
root  up  the  spreading  thickets  of  covetousness ;  sell 
that  thou  hast,  and  be  filled  with  fruit,  by  giving  to 
the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven; 
toad  follow  the  Lord,  if  thou  wilt  be  perfect,  associated 
with  them  among  whom  lie  speaketh  wisdom,  Who 


392  Allegorical  explanation  of 

knoweth  what  to  distribute  to  the  day  and  to  the 
night,  that  thou  mayest  also  know  it,  and  that  for 
thee  there  may  be  lights  in  the  firmament  of  heaven; 
which  will  not  be,  unless  thy  heart  be  there ;  nor  will 
that  either  be  there,  unless  there  thy  treasure  be ;  as 
thou  hast  heard  of  the  good  Master.  But  that  bar- 
ren earth  was  grieved;1  and  the  thorns  choked  the 
word. 

25.  But  you,  chosen  generation,  you  weak  things 
of  the  world,  who  have  forsaken  all,  that  ye  may/b£- 
loic  the  Lord,  go  after  Him,  and  confound  the  mighty; 
go  after  Him,  ye  beautiful  feet,  and  shine  ye  in  the 
firmament,  that  the  heavens  may  declare  His  glory, 
dividing  between  the  light  of  the  perfect,  though  not 
as  the  angels,  and  the  darkness  of  the  little  ones, 
though  not  despised.  Shine  over  the  earth ;  and  let 
the  day,  lightened  by  the  sun,  utter  imto  day,  speech 
of  wisdom  •  and  night,  shining  with  the  moon,  show 
unto  night,  the  word  of  knowledge.  The  moon  and 
stars  shine  for  the  night ;  yet  doth  the  night  obscure 
them,  seeing  they  give  it  light  in  its  degree.  For  be- 
hold God  saying  as  it  were,  Let  there  be  lights  in  the 
firmament  of  heaven;  there  came  suddenly  a  sound 
from  heaven,  as  it  had  been  the  rushing  of  a  mighty 
wind,  and  there  appeared  cloven  tongues  like  as  of 
fire,  and  it  sat  upon  each  of  them,  and  there  were 
made  lights  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  having  the 
word  of  life.  Run  ye  to  and  fro  everywhere,  ye 
holy  fires,  ye  beauteous  fires:  for  ye  are  the  light  of 
the  world,  nor  are  ye  put  under  a  bushel.  He  whom 

l  Matt.  xix.  22. 


the  reptiles  and  birds.  393 

you  cleave  unto,  is  exalted,  and  hath  exalted  you. 
Run  ye  to  and  fro,  and  be  known  unto  all  nations. 

XX.  26.  Let  the  sea  also  conceive  and  bring  forth 
your  works ;  and  let  the  waters  bring  forth  the  mov- 
ing creature  that  hath  life.  For  ye,  separating  the 
precious  fro\n  the  vile,  are  made  the  mouth  of  God,  by 
whom  He  saith,  Let  the  waters  bring  forth,  not  the 
living  creature  which  the  earth  brings  forth,  but  the 
moving  creature  having  life,  and  the  fowls  that  fly 
above  the  earth.  For  Thy  Sacraments,  O  God,  by 
the  ministry  of  Thy  Holy  Ones,  have  moved  amid  the 
waves  of  the  temptations  of  the  world,  to  consecrate 
the  nations  in  Thy  name,  by  Thy  Baptism.  And 
amid  these  things,  many  great  wonders  were  wrought, 
as  it  were,  great  whales;  and  the  voices  were  heard  of 
Thy  messengers  flying  above  the  earth,  in  the  open  fir- 
mament of  Thy  Book,  which  was  set  over  them,  as' 
their  authority,  under  which  they  were  to  fly,  whith- 
ersoever they  went.  For  there  is  no  speech  nor  lan- 
guage, where  their  voice  is  not  heard;  seeing  their 
sound  is  gone  through  all  the  earth,  and  their  words 
to  the  end  of  the  world,  because  Thou,  Lord,  multi- 
pliedst  them  by  blessing. 

27.  Speak  I  untruly,  or  do  I  mingle  and  confound, 
and  not  distinguish  between  the  lucid  knowledge  of 
these  things  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  and  the  ma- 
terial works  in  the  wavy  sea,  and  under  the  firma- 
ment of  heaven  f  For  of  those  things  whereof  the 
knowledge  is  substantial  and  defined,  without  any 
increase  by  generation,  as  it  were  lights  of  wisdom, 
and  knowledge,  yet  even  of  them,  the  material  opera- 


394  AUegorical  explanation  of  the 

tions  are  many  and  divers,  and  one  thing  growing  out 
of  another,  they  are  multiplied  by  Thy  blessing,  O 
God,  who  hast  refreshed  the  fastidiousness  of  mortal 
senses,  so  that  one  thing  in  the  understanding  of  our 
mind  may,  by  the  motions  of  the  body,  be  many  ways 
set  out  and  expressed.  These  Sacraments  have  the 
waters  brought  forth  /  but  in  Thy  Word.  The  neces- 
sities of  the  people  estranged  from  the  eternity  of 
Thy  truth  have  brought  them  forth ;  but  in  Thy  Gos- 
pel. Because  the  icaters  themselves  cast  them  forth, 
the  diseased  bitterness  whereof  was  the  cause  why 
they  were  sent  forth  in  Thy  Word. 

28.  Now  are  all  things  fair  that  Thou  hast  made, 
but  Thou  Thyself  art  unutterably  fairer,  that  madest 
all ;  from  Whom  had  not  Adam  fallen,  the  brackish- 
ness  of  the  sea  had  never  flowed  out  of  him,  that  is, 
the  human  race  so  profoundly  curious,  and  tempestu- 
ously swelling,  and  restlessly  tumbling  up  and  down ; 
and  then  had  there  been  no  need  of  Thy  dispensers 
to  work,  in  many  waters,  after  a  corporeal  and  sensi- 
ble manner,  mysterious  doings  and  sayings.  For  such 
dispensers  those  moving  and  flying  creatures  now 
seem  to  me  to  mean,  whereby  men,  being  initiated 
and  consecrated  by  corporeal  Sacraments,  should  not 
further  profit,  unless  their  soul  had  a  spiritual  life,  and 
unless  after  the  word  of  admission  it  looked  forwards 
to  perfection. 

XXI.  29.  And  hereby,  in  Thy  Word,  not  the  deep- 
ness of  the  sea,  but  the  earth  separated  from  the  bit- 
terness of  the  waters,  brings  forth,  not  the  moving 
creature  that  hath  life,  but  the  living  soul.  For  now 


living  s<nd,  fisJies,  and  fowls.  395 

hath  it  no  more  need  of  baptism,  as  the  heathen  have, 
and  as  itself  had  when  it  was  covered  with  the  waters. 
For  no  other  entrance  is  there  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  since  Thou  hast  appointed  that  this  should  be 
the  entrance  ;  nor  does  it  seek  after  wonderfulness  of 
miracles  to  work  belief.  For  it  is  not  such,  that  un- 
less it  sees  signs  and  wonders,  it  witt  not  believe,  now 
that  the  faithful  earth  is  separated  from  the  waters 
that  were  bitter  with  infidelity,  and  tongues  are  for  a 
sign,  not  to  them  that  believe,  but  to  them  that  believe 
not.  Neither,  therefore,  does  the  earth  which  Thou 
hast  founded  upon  the  waters,  need  that  flying  kind 
which  at  Thy  Word  the  waters  brought  forth.  Send 
Thou  Thy  Word  into  it  by  Thy  messengers.  For  we 
speak  of  their  working,  yet  it  is  Thou  that  workest  in 
them  that  they  may  work  out  a  living  soul.  The 
earth  brings  the  living  soul  forth,  because  the  earth  is 
the  cause  that  they  work  this  in  it,  as  the  sea  was  the 
cause  that  they  wrought  upon  the  moving  creatures 
that  have  life,  and  the  fowls  that  fly  under  the  firma- 
ment of  heaven,  of  whom  the  earth  hath  no  need ;  al- 
though it  feeds  upon  that  fish  which  was  taken  out  of 
the  deep,  upon  that  table  which  Thou  hast  prepared 
in  the  presence  of  them  that  believe.  For  therefore 
was  the  fish  taken  out  of  the  deep,  that  it  might  feed 
the  dry  land ;  and  the  fowl,  though  bred  in  the  sea,  is 
yet  multiplied  upon  the  earth.  Fo?  of  the  first  preach- 
ings of  the  Evangelists,  man's  infidelity  was  the  cause ; 
yet  are  the  faithful  also  exhorted  and  blessed  by  them 
manifoldly,  from  day  to  day.  But  the  living  soul 
takes  its  beginning  from  the  earth  ;  for  it  profits  only 


396  Exhortation  to  God^s  ministers. 

those  already  among  the  Faithful  to  contain  them- 
selves from  the  love  of  this  world,  that  so  their  soul 
may  live  unto  Thee,  which  was  dead  while  it  lived 
in  pleasures,  —  in  death-bringing  pleasures,  Lord,  for 
Thou,  Lord,  art  the  life-giving  delight  of  the  pure 
heart. 

30.  Now  then  let  Thy  ministers  work  upon  the 
earth,  not  as  upon  the  waters  of  infidelity,  by  preach- 
ing and  speaking,  by  miracles  and  sacraments  and 
mystic  words,  wherein  ignorance,  the  mother  of  ad- 
miration, might  be  intent  upon  them,  out  of  a  rever- 
ence towards  those  secret  signs.  For  such  is  the  en- 
trance unto  the  Faith,  for  the  sons  of  Adam  forgetful 
of  Thee,  while  they  hide  themselves  from  Thy  face, 
and  become  a  darksome  deep.  But  let  Thy  ministers 
work  now  as  on  the  dry  land,  separated  from  the 
whirlpools  of  the  great  deep ;  and  let  them  be  a  pat- 
tern unto  the  Faithful,  by  living  before  them,  and  stir- 
ring them  up  to  imitation.  For  thus  do  men  hear,  so 
as  not  to  hear  only,  but  to  do  also.  Seek  the  Lord, 
and  your  sold  shall  live,  that  the  earth  may  bring 
forth  the  living  soul.  Jie  not  conformed  to  the  world. 
Contain  yourselves  from  it.  The  soul  lives  by  avoid- 
ing what  it  dies  by  loving.  Contain  yourselves  from 
the  ungoverned  wildness  of  pride,  the  sluggish  volup- 
tuousness of  luxury,  and  the  false  name  of  knowledge; 
that  so  the  wild  beasts  may  be  tamed,  the  cattle 
broken  to  the  yoke,  the  serpents  harmless.  For  these 
are  the  motions  of  our  mind  under  an  allegory ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  haughtiness  of  pride,  the  delight  of  lust, 
and  the  poison  of  curiosity,  are  the  motions  of  a  dead 


Restraining  power  of  divine  truth,         397 

soul ;  for  the  soul  dies  not  so  as  to  lose  all  motion ; 
because  it  dies  by  forsaking  the  fountain  of  life^ 
and  so  is  taken  up  by  this  transitory  world,  and  is 
conformed  unto  it. 

31..  But  Thy  word,  O  God,  is  the  fountain  of  life 
eternal,  and  passeth  not  away ;  wherefore  this  depar- 
ture of  the  soul  is  restrained  by  Thy  word,  when  it  is 
said  unto  us,  Be,  not  conformed  unto  this  world ;  that 
so  the  earth  may  in  the  fountain  of 'life  bring  forth  a 
living  soul  •  that  is,  a  soul  made  continent  in  Thy 
Word,  by  Thy  Evangelists,  by  following  the  followers 
of  Thy  Christ.  For  this  is  after  his  kind ;  because  a 
man  is  wont  to  imitate  his  friend.  J3e  ye  (saith  he)  as 
I  am,  for  I  also  am  as  you  are.  Thus  in  this  living 
soul  shall  there  be  good  beasts,  in  meekness  of  action 
(for  Thou  hast  commanded,  Go  on  with  Thy  business 
in  meekness,  so  shalt  thou  be  beloved  by  all  men);  *  and 
good  cattle,  which  neither  if  they  eat  shall  they  over- 
ubound,  nor,  if  they  eat  not,  have  any  lack  ;  and  good 
serpents,  not  dangerous  to  do  hurt,  but  wise  to  take 
xieed,  and  only  niaKing  so  much  search  into  this  tem- 
poral nature,  as  may  suffice  that  eternity  be  clearly 
seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made. 
For  these  creatures  are  obedient  unto  reason,  when, 
being  restrained  from  deadly  attack  upon  us,  they 
live,  and  are  good. 

XXII.  32.  For  behold,  O  Lord  our  God,  our  Crea- 
tor, when  our  affections  have  been  restrained  from  the 
love  of  the  world,  by  which  we  died  through  evil- 

l  Sirach  iii.  19. 
28 


398          Explanation  of  the  divine  image. 

living,  and  have  begun  to  be  a  living  soul,  through 
good  living,  and  Thy  word  which  Thou  spakest  by 
Thy  apostle,'  is  made  good  in  us,  Be  not  conformed 
to  this  icorld,  there  follows  that  also  which  Thou  pres- 
ently subjoinedst,  saying,  But  be  ye  transformed  by 
the  renewing  of  your  mind,  not  now  after  your  kind, 
as  though  following  your  neighbor  who  went  before 
you,  nor  as  living  after  the  example  of  some  better 
man.  For  Thou  saidst  not,  "  Let  map  be  made  after 
his  kind,"  but,  Let  us  make  man  after  our  own  image 
and  similitude,  that  we  might  prove  what  Thy  will  is. 
For  to  this  purpose,  said  that  dispenser  of  Thine,  who 
begat  children  by  the  Gospel,  that  he  might  not  for- 
ever have  them  babes,  whom  he  must  be  fain  to  feed 
with  milk,  and  cherish  as  a  nurse :  Be  ye  transformed 
by  the  renewing  of  your  mind,  that  ye  may  prove 
what  is  that  good  and  acceptable  and  perfect  will  of 
God.  "Wherefore  Thou  sayest  not,  "Let  man  be 
made,"  but  '•''Let  us  make  man."  Nor  saidst  Thou, 
"  according  to  his  kind,"  but,  "after  our  image  and 
likeness."  For  man  being  renewed  in  his  mind,  and 
beholding  and  understanding  Thy  truth,  needs  not 
man  as  his  director,  so  as  to  follow  after  his  kind ; 
but  by  Thy  direction  proveth  ichat  is  that  good  and 
acceptable  and  perfect  will  of  Thine  ;  and  Thou  teach- 
est  him,  now  made  capable,  to  discern  the  Trinity  of 
the  Unity,  and  the  Unity  of  the  Trinity.  "\Vherefore 
to  that  said  in  the  plural,  Let  its  make  man,  is  yet 
subjoined  in  the  singular,  And  God  made  man  ;  and 
to  that  said  in  the  plural,  After  our  likeness,  is  sub- 
joined in  the  singular,  After  the  image  of  God.  Thus 


The  judgment  of  the  spiritual  man.         399 

is  man  reneiced  in  the  knoicledge  of  God,  after  the 
image  of  Him  that  created  him  ;  and  being  made 
spiritual,  hejudgeth  all  things  (all  things  which  are 
to  be  judged),  yet  himself  is  judged  of  no  man. 

XVIII.  33.  But  that  \\ejudgeth  all  things,  this  an- 
swers to  his  having  dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea, 
and  over  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  over  all  cattle  and 
wild  beasts,  and  over  all  the  earth,  and  over  every 
creeping  thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth.  For  this 
he  doth  by  the  understanding  of  his  mind,  whereby 
\\eperceiveth  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God;  whereas 
otherwise,  man,  being  placed  in  honor,  had  no  under- 
standing, and  is  compared  unto  the  brute  beasts,  and 
is  become  like  unto  them.  lu  Thy  Church,  therefore, 
O  our  God,  according  to  Thy  grace  which  Thou  hast 
bestowed  upon  it  (for  we  are  Thy  workmanship  cre- 
ated unto  good  icorks),  not  those  only  who  are  spirit- 
ually set  over,  but  they  also  who  spiritually  are  sub- 
ject to  those  that  are  set  over  them  (for  in  this  way 
didst 'Thou  make  man  male  and  female,  in  Thy  spirit- 
ual grace,  where  according  to  the  sex  of  body  there 
is  neither  male  nor  female,  because  neither  Jew  nor 
Grecian,  neither  bond  nor  free),  —  all  spiritual  per- 
sons, in  Thy  Church,  whether  such  as  are  set  over,  or 
such  as  obey,  do  judge  spiritually.  Not,  indeed,  of  that 
spiritual  knowledge  which  shines  in  the  firmament,  for 
they  ought  not  to  judge  as  to  so  supreme  authority  ; 
nor  may  they  judge  of  Thy  Book  itself,  even  though 
something  there  shineth  not  clearly,  for  we  submit 
our  understanding  unto  it,  and  hold  for  certain,  that 
even  what  is  closed  to  our  sight,  is  yet  rightly  and 


400  The  judgment  of 

truly  spoken.  For  man,  though  now  spiritual,  and 
renewed  in  the  knowledge  of  God  after  His  image 
that  created  him,  ought  to  be  a  doer  of  the  law,  not  a 
judge.  Neither  doth  he  judge  of  that  distinction  of 
spiritual  and  carnal  men,  who  are  known  unto  Thine 
eyes,  O  our  God,  and  have  not  as  yet  discovered 
themselves  unto  us  by  works,  that  by  their  fruits  we 
might  know  them;  but  Thou,  Lord,  dost  even  now 
know  them,  and  hast  divided  and  called  them  in 
secret,  before  ever  the  firmament  was  made.  Nor 
doth  he,  though  spiritual,  judge  the  unquiet  people  of 
tliis  world  ;  for  what  hath  he  to  do,  to  judge  them  that 
are  without,  knowing  not  which  of  them  shall  hereaf- 
ter come  into  the  sweetness-of  Thy  grace,  and  which 
continue  in  the  perpetual  bitterness  of  ungodliness. 

34.  Man,  therefore,  whom  Thou  hast  made  after 
Thine  own  image,  received  not  dominion  over  the 
lights  of  heaven,  nor  over  that  hidden  heaven  itself, 
nor  over  the  day  and  the  night,  which  Thou  calledst 
before  the  foundation  of  the  heaven,  nor  over  the 
gathering  together  of  the  waters,  which  is  the  sea;  but 
he  received  dominion  over  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and 
the  fotcls  of  the  air,  and  over  all  cattle,  and  over  all 
the  earth,  and  over  all  creeping  things  which  creep 
vpon  the  earth.  For  he  judgeth  and  approveth  what 
he  fiudeth  right,  and  he  disalloweth  what  he  findeth 
amiss  ;  whether  in  the  celebration  olthat  sacrament 
by  which  such  are  initiated  as  Thy  mercy  searches  out 
in  many  waters;  or  in  that,  in  which  that^s/i1  is  set 


l  There  is,  probably,  an  allusion  here  to  the  early  Christian  monogram 
Q-tov  T-los  2w-T7j.  —  ED. 


the  spiritual  man.  401 

forth,  which,  taken  out  of  the  deep,  the  devout  earth 
feed  upon  j  or  in  the  expressions  and  signs  of  words, 
subject  to  the  authority  of  Thy  Book,  —  such  signs, 
as  proceed  out  of  the  mouth,  and  sound  forth,  flying 
as  it  were  under  the  firmament,  by  interpreting,  ex- 
pounding, discoursing,  disputing,  consecrating,  or  pray- 
ing unto  Thee,  so  that  the  people  may  answer,  Amen. 
The  vocal  pronouncing  of  all  which  words,  is  oc- 
casioned by  the  deep  of  this  world,  and  the  blindness 
of  the  flesh,  which  cannot  see  thoughts,  so  that  there 
is  need  to  speak  aloud  in  the  ears.  Thus,  although 
flying  foicls  be  multiplied  upon  the  earth,  yet  they 
derive  their  beginning  from  the  waters.  The  spirit- 
ual manjudgeth  also  by  allowing  of  what  is  right,  and 
disallowing  what  he  finds  amiss,  in  the  works  and 
lives  of  the  faithful,  —  in  their  alms,  as  it  were  the 
earth  bringing  forth  fruit'  in  the  living  soul,  living 
by  the  taming  of  the  affections ;  in  chastity ;  in  fast- 
ing ;  in  holy  meditations  concerning  those  things 
which  are  perceived  by  the  senses  of  the  body.  Upon 
all  these  is  he  now  said  to  judge,  wherein  he  hath  also 
power  of  correction. 

XXIV.  35.  But  what  is  this,  and  what  kind  of  mys- 
tery ?  Behold,  Thou  blessest  mankind,  O  Lord,  that 
they  may  increase  and  multiply,  and  replenish  the 
earth.  Dost  Thpu  not  thereby  give  us  a  hint  to  un- 
derstand something  ?  Why  didst  Thou  not  as  well 
bless  the  light,  which  Thou  cattedst  day-  and  the  fir- 
mament of  heaven,  and  the  lights,  and  the  stars,  and 
the  sea  f  I  might  say  that  Thou,  0  God,  who  created 
us  after  Thine  Image,  I  might  say  that  it  had  been 


402      Why  God  blessed  man,  fishes,  and  fowls 

Thy  good  pleasure  to  bestow  this  blessing  peculiarly 
upon  man,  hadst  Thou  not  in  like  manner  blessed  the 
fishes  and  the  whales,  that  they  should  increase  and 
multiply,  and  replenish  the  waters  of  the  sea,  and  that 
the  foicls  shoidd  be  multiplied  upon  the  earth.  I 
might  say,  likewise,  that  this  blessing  pertained  prop- 
erly unto  such  creatures  as  are  bred  of  their  own 
kind,  had  I  found  it  given  to  the  fruit-trees,  and 
plants,  and  beasts  of  the  earth.  But  now  neither 
unto  the  herbs,  nor  the  trees,  nor  the  beasts,  nor  ser* 
pents  is  it  said,  Increase  and  multiply ;  notwithstand 
ing  all  these  as  well  as  the  fishes,  fowls,  or  men,  do  by 
generation  increase  and  continue  their  kind. 

36.  What  then  shall  I  say,  O  Truth  my  Light  ? 
"  that  it  was  idly  said,  and  without  meaning  ?  "  Xot 
so,  O  Father  of  piety,  far  be  it  from  a  minister  of 
Thy  word  to  say  so.  And  if  I  understand  not  what 
Thou  meanest  by  that  phrase,  let  my  betters,  that  isr 
those  of  more  understanding  than  myself,  make  bet- 
ter use  of  it,  according  as  Thou,  my  God,  hast  given 
to  each  man  to  understand.  But  let  my  confession 
also  be  pleasing  in  Thine  eyes,  wherein  I  confess  unto 
Thee,  that  I  believe,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  spakest  not  so 
in  vain ;  nor  will  I  suppress  what  this  lesson  suggests 
to  me.  For  it  is  truth ;  nor  do  I  see  what  should  hin- 
der me  from  thus  understanding  the  figurative  sayings 
of  Thy  Bible.  For  I  know  a  thing  to  be  manifoldly 
signified  by  corporeal  expressions,  which  is  understood 
one  way  by  the  mind ;  and  that  understood  many  ways 
in  the  mind,  which  is  signified  one  way  by  corporeal 
expression.  Behold,  the  single  love  of  God  and  our 


and  not  herbs,  and  other  animals.  403 

neighbor,  by  what  manifold  sacraments,  and  innumer- 
able languages,  and  in  each  several  language  in  how 
innumerable  modes  of  speaking,  it  is  corporeally  ex- 
pressed. Thus  do  the  offsprings  of  the  waters  increase 
and  multiply.  Observe  again,  whosoever  thou  art 
that  readest  this.  Behold  what  Scripture  delivers, 
and  the  voice  pronounces  in  only  one  way :  In  the  Be- 
ginning God  created  heaven  and  earth;  is  it  not  un- 
derstood manifoldly,  not  through  any  deceit  of  error, 
but  by  various  kinds  of  true  senses  ?  Thus  do  man's 
offspring  increase  and  multiply.  '  v 

36.  If,  therefore,  we  conceive  of  the  natures  of  the 
things  themselves,  not  allegorically,  but  properly,  then 
does  the  phrase  increase  and  multiply  agree  unto  all 
things,  that  come  of  seed.  But  if  we  treat  of  the 
words  as  figuratively  spoken  (which  I  rather  suppose 
to  be  the  purpose  of  the  Scripture,  which  doth  not, 
surely,  superfluously  ascribe  this  benediction  to  the 
offspring  of  aquatic  animals  and  man  only),  then  do 
we  find  "multitude"  to  belong  to  creatures  spiritual 
as  well  as  corporeal,  as  in  heaven  and  earth;  and  to 
souls  both  righteous  and  unrighteous,  as  in  light  and 
darkness;  and  to  holy  authors  who  have  been  the 
ministers  of  the  Law  unto  us,  as  in  the  firmament 
which  is  settled  betwixt  the  waters  and  the  waters; 
and  to  the  society  of  people  yet  in  the  bitterness  of 
infidelity,  as  in  the  sea;  and  to  the  zeal  of  holy  souls, 
as  in  the  dry  land;  and  to  works  of  mercy  belonging 
to  this  present  life,  as  in  the  herbs  bearing  seed,  and 
in  trees  bearing  fruit;  and  to  spiritual  gifts  set  forth 
for  edification,  as  in  the  lights  of  heaven;  and  to  affeo 


404  The  fruits  of  the  earth  signify 

tions  formed  unto  temperance,  as  in  the  living  soul. 
In  all  these  instances  we  meet  with  multitudes,  abun- 
dance, and  increase ;  but  what  shall  in  such  wise  in- 
crease and  multiply,  that  one  thing  may  be  ex- 
pressed many  ways,  and  one  expression  be  understood 
many  ways,  we  find  not,  except  in  signs  corporeally 
expressed,  and  in  things  mentally  conceived.  By  signs 
corporeally  pronounced,  we  understand  the  genera- 
tions of  the  Avaters,  necessarily  occasioned  by  the  fer- 
tility of  the  flesh;  by  things  mentally  conceived, 
human  generations,  on  account  of  the  fruitfulness  of 
reason.  And  for  this  end  do  we  believe  Thee,  Lord, 
to  have  said  to  these  kinds,  Increase  and  multiply. 
For  in  this  blessing,  I  conceive  Thee  to  have  granted 
us  a  power  and  a  faculty,  both  to  express  several  ways 
what  we  understand  but  one ;  and  to  understand  sev- 
eral ways,  what  we  read  to  be  obscurely  delivered  but 
in  one.  Thus  are  the  waters  of  the  sea  replenished, 
which  are  not  moved  but  by  several  significations; 
thus  with  human  increase  is  the  earth  also  replenished, 
whose  dryness  appeareth  in  its  longing,  and  reason 
ruleth  over  it. 

XXV.  38.  I  would  also  say,  O  Lord  my  God,  what 
the  following  Scripture  minds  me  of;  yea,  I  will  say, 
and  not  fear.  For  I  will  say  the  truth,  Thyself  inspi- 
ring me  with  what  Thou  wiliest  me  to  deliver  out  of 
those  words.  But  by  no  other  inspiration  than  Thine, 
do  I  believe  myself  to  speak  truth,  seeing  Thou  art 
the  Truth,  and  every  man  a  liar.  He,  therefore,  that 
speaketh  a  lie,  speaketh  of  his  own;  that  therefore  I 
may  speak  truth,  I  will  speak  of  Thine.  Behold, 


works  of  benevolence.  .     405 

Thou  hast  given  tmto  us  for  food,  every  herb  bearing 
seed  which  is  upon  all  the  earth,  and  every  tree  in 
which  is  the  fruit  of  a  tree  yielding  seed  /  and  not 
to  us  alone,  but  also  to  all  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  to 
the  beasts  of  the  earth,  and  to  all  creeping  things  ; 
but  unto  the  fishes,  and  to  the  great  whales,  hast  Thou 
not  given  them.  Now,  we  said  that  by  these  fruits 
of  the  earth  were  signified,  and  figured  in  an  allegory, 
the  works  of  mercy  which  are  provided  for  the  neces- 
sities of  this  life  out  of  the  fruitful  earth.  Such  an 
earth  was  the  devout  Onesiphorus,  unto  whose  house 
Thou  gavest  mercy,  because  he  often  refreshed  Thy 
Paul,  and  icas  not  ashamed  of  his  chain.  Thus  did 
also  the  brethren,  and  such  fruit  did  they  bear,  who 
out  of  Macedonia  supplied  what  was  lacking  to  him. 
But  how  grieved  he  for  some  trees,  which  did  not 
afford  him  the  fruit  due  unto  him,  where  he  saith, 
At  my  first  answer  no  man  stood  by  me,  but  all  men 
forsook  me.  I  pray  God  that  it  may  not  be  laid  to 
their  charge.  For  these  fruits  are  due  to  such  as 
minister  the  spiritual  doctrine  unto  us  out  of  their 
understanding  of  the  divine  mysteries  ;  and  they  are 
due  to  them,  as  men  ;  yea  and  due  to  them,  also,  as 
the  living  soul,  which  giveth  itself  as  an  example,  in 
all  continency ;  and  due  unto  them,  also,  as  fiying 
creatures,  for  their  blessings  which  are  multiplied 
upon  the  earth,  because  their  sound  went  out  into  all 
lands. 

XXVI.  39.  But  they  are  fed  by  these  fruits,  that 
are  delighted  with  them  ;  nor  are  they  delighted  with 
them,  whose  God  is  their  belly.  For  neither  in  them 


406  The  worth  of  a  gift, 


that  yield  them,  are  the  mere  things  yielded  the 
fruit,  but  with  what  mind  they  yield  them.  He 
therefore  that  served  God,  and  not  his  men  belli/,  I 
plainly  see  why  he  rejoiced  ;  I  see  it,  and  I  rejoice 
with  him.  For  he  had  received  from  the  Philippians, 
what  they  had  sent  by  Epaphroditus  unto  him.  And 
I  also  perceive  why  he  rejoiced  so  specially  at  that 
whereon  he  fed.  For,  speaking  in  truth,  he  saith,  1 
rejoiced  greatly  in  the  Lord,  that  now  at  the  last  your 
care  of  me  hath  flourisJied  again,  wherein  ye  were 
also  careful,  but  it  had  become  wearisome  unto  you. 
These  Philippians,  then,  had  dried  up,  with  a  long 
weariness,  and  withered,  as  it  were,  as  to  bearing  this 
fruit  of  a  good  work ;  and  he  rejoiceth  for  them, 
that  they  flourished  again,  and  not  merely  for  him- 
self, that  they  supplied  his  wants.  Therefore  subjoins 
he,  Not  that  I  speak  in  respect  of  want,  for  I  have 
learned  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  con- 
tent. I  know  both  hoic  to  be  abased,  and  I  know  how 
to  abound ;  everywhere  and  in  all  things  I  am  in- 
structed both  to  be  full,  and  to  be  hungry  ;  both  to 
abound,  and  to  suffer  need.  I  can  do  all  things 
through  Him  which  strengtheneth  me. 

40.  Whereat  then  rejoicest  thou,  O  great  Paul  ? 
whereat  rejoicest  thou  ?  whereon  feedest  thou,  O  man, 
renewed  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  after  the  image  of 
Hiiit  that  created  thee,  thou  living  soul,  of  so  much 
continency,  thou  tongue  like  flying  foicls,  speaking 
mysteries  (for  to  such  creatures  is  this  food  due) ; 
what  is  it  that  feeds  thee  ?  Joy.  Hear  what  follows : 
notwithstanding,  ye  have  well  done,  that  ye  did  com- 


lies  in  the  intention.  407 

municate  with  my  affliction.  Hereat  ho  rejoiceth, 
hcrcon  feedeth  ;  because  they  had  well  done,  not  be- 
cause his  strait  was  eased  who  saith  unto  Thee,  Thou 
hast  enlarged  me  when  I  was  in  distress;  for  he  knew 
how  to  abound,  and  to  suffer  want,  in  Thee,  Who 
strengthenest  him.  For  ye  Philippians  also  know, 
(saith  IK)  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  Gospel,  when 
I  departed  from  Macedonia,  no  church  communi- 
cated with  me,  as  concerning  giving  and  receiving, 
but  ye  only.  For  even  in  Thessalonica  ye  sent  once 
and  again  unto  my  necessity.  Unto  these  good 
works,  lie  now  rejoiceth  that  they  are  returned  ;  and 
is  gladdened  that  they  flourished  again,  as  when  a 
fruitful  field  resumes  its  green. 

41.  Was  it  because  o£  his  own  necessities,  that  he 
said,  Ye  sent  unto  my  necessity  ?  Rejoiceth  he  for  that? 
Verily  not  for  that.  But  how  know  this  ?  Because 
himself  says  immediately,  not  because  I  desire  a  gift, 
but  I  desire  fruit.  I  have  learned  of  Thee,  my  God, 
to  distinguish  betwixt  a  gift,  and  fruit.  A  gift,  is 
the  thing  itself  which  he  gives  that  imparts  these 
necessaries  unto  us,  as  money,  meat,  drink,  clothing, 
shelter,  help  ;  but  the  fruit,  is  the  good  and  right 
will  of  the  giver.  For  the  Good  Master  said  not 
only,  He  that  receiveth  a  prophet,  but  added,  in  the 
name  of  a  prophet ;  nor  did  He  only  say,  He  that 
receiveth  a  righteous  man,  but  added,  in  the  name  of 
a  righteous  man.  So,  verily,  shall  the  one  receive  the 
reward  of  a  prophet,  the  other,  the  reward  of  a  right- 
eous man.  Nor  saith  He  only,  He  that  shall  give  to 
drink  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  one  of  my  little  ones, 


408  The  fishes  and  whales. 

but  added,  in  the  name  of  a  disciple  ;  and  so  con- 
cludeth,  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  he  shall  not  lose  his 
reward.  The  gift  is,  to  receive  a  prophet,  to  receive  a 
righteous  man,  to  give  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  a 
disciple;  but  the  fruit  is,  to  do  this  in  the  name  of 
a  prophet,  in  the  name  of  a  righteous  man,  in  the 
name  of  a  disciple. 

With  fruit  was  Elijah  fed  by  the  widow  that  knew 
she  fed  a  man  of  God,  and  therefore  fed  him ;  but  by 
the  raven  was  he  fed  with  a  gift.  Nor  was  the  inner 
man  of  Elijah  so  fed,  but  the  outer  only;  which  might 
also  for  want  of  that  food  have  perished. 

XXVII.  42.    I  will  then  speak  what   is  true  in 
Thy  sight,  O  Lord  :  namely,  that  when  carnal  men  and 
infidels,  whom  we  suppose  to  be  signified  by  the  name 
of  fishes  and  whales  (for  the  gaining  and  initiating 
whom,  the  initiatory   Sacraments   and   the   mighty 
workings  of  miracles  are  necessary),  undertake  the 
bodily  refreshment,  or  otherwise  succor  Thy  servants 
with  something  useful  for  this  present  life,  inasmuch , 
as  they  are  ignorant,  why  this  is  to  be  done,  and  to 
what  end,  they  do  not  really  feed  these,  nor  are  these 
really  fed  by  them  ;  because  neither  do  the  former* do 
it  out  of  an  holy  and  right  intent,  nor  do  the  latter 
rejoice  at  their  gifts,  whose  fruit  they  as  yet  behold 
not.     For  upon  that  is  the  mind  fed,  of  which  it  is 
glad.    And  therefore  do  not  the  fishes  and  whales 
feed  upon  such  meats  as  the  earth  brings  not  forth 
until  after  it  was  separated,  and  divided,  from  the  bit- 
terness of  the  waves  of  the  sea. 

XXVIII.  43.  And   Thou,   0  God,  sawest  every- 


God  not  conditioned  by  time.  409 

thing  that  Thou  hadst  made,  and  behold,  it  was  very 
good.  Yea  we  also  see  the  same,  and  behold,  all 
things  are.  very  good.  Of  the  several  kinds  of  Thy 
works,  when  Thou  hadst  said  "  let  them  be,"  and  they 
were,  Thou  sawest  each  that  it  was  good.  Seven 
times  have  I  counted  it  to  be  written,  that  Thou  saw- 
est that  that  which  Thou  tnadest  was  good ;  and  this 
is  the  eighth,  that  Thou  sawest  every  thing  that  Thou, 
hadst  made,  and  behold  it  was  not  only  good,  but 
also  very  good,  as  being  now  one,  and  altogether. 
For  severally  they  were  only  good /  but  altogether, 
both  good,  and  very  good.  All  beautiful  bodies  ex- 
press the  same ;  because  a  body  consisting  of  members 
all  beautiful,  is  far  more  beautiful  than  the  same 
members  by  themselves  are,  by  whose  well-ordered 
blending  the  whole  is  perfected,  although  the  mem- 
bers, severally,  be  also  beautiful. 

XXIX.  44.  And  I  looked  narrowly  to  find,  whether 
seven,  or  eight  times,  Thou  sawest  that  Thy  works 
were  good,  when  they  pleased  Thee  ;  but  in  Thy  see- 
ing I  found  no  times,  whereby  I  might  understand 
that  Thou  sawest  so  often,  what  Thou  madest.  And 
I  s*aid,  "  Lord,  is  not  this  Thy  Scripture  true,  since 
Thou  art  true,  and  being  Truth,  hast  set  it  forth  ? 
Why  dost  Thou  say  unto  me,  *  that  in  Thy  seeing 
there  be  no  times  ;'  whereas  this  Thy  Scripture  tells 
me,  that  what  Thou  madest  each  day,  Thou  sawest 
that  it  icas  good  ;  and  when  I  counted  them,  I 
found  how  often."  Unto  this  Thou  answerest  me, 
for  Thou  art  my  God,  and  with  a  strong  voice  tellest 
Thy  servant  in  his  inner  ear,  breaking  through  my 


410       Gnostic  and  Manichaean  cosmogonies. 

i 

deafness  and  crying,  "  O  man,  that  which  my  Scrip- 
ture saith,  I  say.  And  yet  doth  that  speak  in  time  ; 
but  time  has  no  relation  to  My  Word,  because  My 
Word  exists  in  equal  eternity  with  Myself.  So,  the 
things  which  ye  see  through  My  Spirit,  I  see ;  and 
what  things  ye  speak  by  My  Spirit,  I  speak.  And 
yet  when  ye  see  those  things  in  time,  I  see  them  not 
in  time ;  and  when  ye  speak  them  in  time,  I  speak 
them  not  in  time." 

XXX.  45.  And  I  heard,  O  Lord  my  God,  and 
drank  up  a  drop  of  sweetness  out  of  Thy  truth,  and 
understood.  For  there  are  certain  men  who  dis- 
like Thy  works ;  and  say  that  many  of  them  Thou 
madest  because  compelled  by  necessity ;  such  as  the 
fabric  of  the  heavens,  and  harmony  of  the  stars;  and 
that  Thou  madest  them  not  of  what  was  Thine,  but 
that  they  were  otherwhere  and  from  other  sources 
created,  for  Thee  to  bring  together  and  compact  and 
combine,  when  out  of  Thy  conquered  enemies  Thou 
raisedst  up  the  walls  of  the  universe  ;  that  they, 
bound  down  by  this  structure,  might  not  again  be 
able  to  rebel  against  Thee.  And  there  are  still  other 
things,  they  say,  which  Thou  neither  madest,  iTor 
even  compactedst,  such  as  all  fleshly  creatures,  and 
all  very  minute  creatures,  and  whatsoever  hath  its 
root  in  the  earth ;  but  that  a  mind  at  enmity  with 
Thee,  and  another  nature,  not  created  by  Thee,  and 
contrary  unto  Thee,  did,  in  these  lower  stages  of  the 
world,  beget  and  frame  these  things.  Frenzied  are 
they  who  say  thus,  because  they  see  not  Thy  works 
by  Thy  Spirit,  nor  recognize  Thee  in  them. 


Man's  need  of  illumination.  411 

XXXI.  46.  But  they  who,  by  Thy  Spirit,  see  these 
tilings,  Thou  seest  in  them.  Therefore,  when  they 
see  that  these  things  are  good,  Thou  seest  that  they 
are  good ;  and  whatsoever  things  for  Thy  sake 
please,  Thou  pleasest  in  them;  and  what  through 
Thy  Spirit  please  us,  they  please  Thee  in  us.  For 
what  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the 
spirit  of  a  man,  ichich  is  in  him?  even  so  the  things 
of  God  Jcnoiceth  no  one,  but  the  Spirit  of  God.  Now 
we  (saith  he)  have  received,  not  the  spirit  of  this 
world,  but  the  /Spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  we  might 
know  the  things  that  are  freely  given  us  of  God. 
The  objection  occurs  to  me:  "Certainly  the  things  of 
God  knoweth  no  one,  but  the  Spirit  of  God ;  how 
..then  do  we  also  know,  what  things  are  given  us  of 
God?"  Answer  is  made  me:  "Because  the  things 
which  we  know  by  His  Spirit,  even  these  no  one 
kiiowcth,  but  the  Sjnrit  of  God.  For  as  it  is  rightly 
said  unto  those  that  were  to  speak  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  It  is  not  ye  that  speak ;  so  is  it  rightly  said 
to  them  that  know  through  the  Spirit  of  God,  '  It  is 
not  ye  that  know.'  And  no  less,  then,  is  it  rightly 
said  to  those  that  see  through  the  Spirit  of  God,  '  It 
is  not  y^that  see;'  so  whatsoever  through  the  Spirit 
of  God  they  see  to  be  good,  it  is  not  they,  but  God 
that  sees  that  it  is  good.n  It  is  one  thing,  then,  for 
a  man  to  think  that  to  be  evil  which  is  good,  as  the 
forenamed  do;  another  thing  that  a  man  should  see 
that  that  which  is  good  is  good  (for  Thy  creatures 
are  pleasing  unto  many  because  they  are  good,  whom 
yet  Thou  pleasest  not  in  them,  because  they  prefer 


412  Summary  of  the 


to  enjoy  them  to  Thee) ;  and  another  thing  that 
when  a  man  sees  that  a  thing  is  good,  God  should  in 
him  see  that  is  good,  so,  namely,  that  He  should  be 
loved  in  that  which  He  made,  Who  cannot  be  loved, 
but  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  he  hath  given.  Because 
the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  -in  our  hearts  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,  Which  is  given  unto  us  /  by  Whom  we 
see  that  whatsoever  in  any  degree  truly  is,  is  good. 
For  from  Him  it  truly  is,  Who  Himself  is  not  in  de- 
gree, but  what  He  Is,  Is. 

XXXII.  47.  Thanks  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  we  behold 
the  heaven  and  earth,  both  the  corporeal  part,  supe- 
rior and  inferior,  and  the  spiritual  and  corporeal  crea- 
ture ;  and  in  the  adorning  of  these  parts,  whereof 
the  universal  pile  of  the  world,  or  rather  the  univer- 
sal creation,  doth  consist,  we  see  light  made,  and  di- 
vided from  the  darkness.  We  see  the  firmament  of 
heaven,  both  that  primary  body  of  the  world,  between 
the  spiritual  upper  waters  and  the  inferior  corporeal 
waters?  and  (since  this  also  is  called  heaven)  this 
space  of  air  through  which  wander  the  fowls  of 
heaven,  betwixt  those  waters  which  are  in  vapors 
borne  above  them,  and  in  dear  nights  distil  down 
in  dew,  and  those  heavier  icaters  which  floV  along 
the  earth.  We  behold  a  surface  of  icaters  gathered  to- 
gether in  the  fields  of  the  sea  ;  and  the  dry  land  botli 
void  and  formed  so  as  to  be  visible  and  harmonized, 
yen,  and  the  matter  of  herbs  and  trees.  We  behold 

1  Augustine,  in  his  Retractationes  (Lib.  II.  Cap.  6)  remarks:  Qnod 
dixi  firmamtntum  factum  inter  spintales  aquas  superior's  et  corporate*  in- 
/entires,  nou  satis  considerate  dictum  est ;  res  autem  in  abdito  cst  valde. 

—  ED. 


works  of  the  Creator.  413 

the  lights,  shining  from  above ;  the  sun,  to  suffice  for 
the  day,  the  moon  and  the  stars  to  cheer  the  night; 
and  that,  by  all  these,  times  should  be  marked  and 
signified.  We  behold  pn  all  sides  a  moist  element 
replenished  with  fishes,  beasts,  and  birds ;  because 
the  grossness  of  the  air,  which  bears  up  the  flights 
of  birds,  thickeneth  itself  by  the  exhalation  of  the 
waters.  We  behold  the  face  of  the  earth  decked 
out  with  earthly  creatures ;  and  man,  created  after 
Thy  image  and  likeness,  even  through  Thy  very 
image  and  likeness,  that  is  the  power  of  reason  and 
understanding,  set  over  all  irrational  creatures.  And 
as  in  his  soul  there  is  one  power  which  has  dominion 
by  directing,  another  made  subject,  that  it  might 
obey;  so  was  there  for  the  man,  corporeally  also 
made  a  woman,  who,  in  the  mind  of  her  reasonable 
understanding,  should  have  a  parity  of  nature,  but 
in  the  sex  of  her  body,  should  be  in  like  manner 
subject  to  the  sex  of  her  husband,  as  the  appetite  of 
doing  is  fain  to  obtain  the  skill  of  right-doing,  from 
the  reason  of  the  mind.  These  things  we  behold, 
and  they  are  severally  good,  and  taken  altogether 
very  good. 

XXXIII.  48.  Let  Thy  works  praise  Thee,  that  wu 
may  love  Thee;  and  let  us  love  Thee,  that  Thy 
works  may  praise  Thee,  which  from  time  have  be- 
ginning and  ending,  rising  and  setting,  growth  and 
decay,  form  and  privation.  They  have  then  their 
succession  of  morning  and  evening,  part  secretly, 
part  apparently."  For  they  were  made  of  nothing  by 
Thee,  not  of  Thee ;  not  of  any  matter  not  Thine,  or  that 

29 


414  Creation  is  de  nihilo. 

was  before  Thy  creative  act,  but  of  matter  concreated 
(that  is,  a  matter  in  which  the  matter  and  fonn  were 
simultaneously  created  by  Thee),  because  to  its  state 
without  form,  Thou  without  any  interval  of  time  didst 
give  form.  For  seeing  the  matter  of  heaven  and 
earth  is  one  thing,  and  the  form  another,  Thou 
madest  the  matter  of  merely  nothing,  but  the  form 
of  the  world  out  of  .the  matter  without  form  :  yet 
both  together,  so  that  the  form  should  follow  the 
matter,  without  any  interval  of  delay.1 

XXXIV.  49.  "We  have  also  examined  what  Thou 
willedst  to  be  shadowed  forth,  whether  by  the  crea- 
tion, or  the  relation  of  things  in  such  an  order ; 
and  we  have  seen,  that  things  singly  are  good,  and 
together  very  good,  in  Thy  "Word,  in  Thy  Only- 
Begotten,  both  heaven  and  earth,  the  head  and  the 
body  of  the  church,  in  Thy  predestination  befoi'e  all 
times,  without  morning  and  evening.  But  when 
Thou  begannest  to  execute  in  time  the  things  predes- 
tinated, to  the  end  Thou  mightest  reveal  hidden 
things,  and  rectify  our  disorders  (for  our  sins  hung 
over  us,  and  we  had  sunk  into  the  dark  deep,  and 
Thy  good  Spirit  was  borne  over  us,  to  help  us  in  due 
season),  Thou  didst  justify  the  ungodly,  and  dividedst 
them  from  the  wicked  ;  and  Thou  madest  the  firma- 
ment of  authority  of  Thy  book  between  those  placed 
above,  who  were  to  be  docile  unto  Thee,  and  those 

l  Augustine  here  precludes  that  theory  of  creation  which  regards  the 
Deity  as  conditioned  by  an  eternally  existent  v\r),  —  an  error  in  which 
some  of  the  early  Christian  Fathers,  e.  g.,  Justin  Martyr,  were  involved 
Compare  Guericke's  Church  History,  §  53.  —  ED. 


Recapitulatory  statement.  415 

placed  under,  who  were  to  be  subject  to  them ;  and 
thou  gatheredest  together  the  society  of  unbelievers 
into  one  conspiracy,  that  the  zeal  of  the  faithful  might 
appear,  and  they  might  bring  forth  works  of  mercy, 
even  distributing  to  the  poor  their  earthly  riches,  to 
obtain  heavenly.  And  after  this,  didst  Thou  kindle 
certain  lights  in  the  firmament,  Thy  Holy  ones  hav- 
ing the  word  of  life,  and  shining  with  an  eminent 
authority  set  on  high  through  spiritual  gifts.  After 
this,  again,  for  the  initiation  of  the  unbelieving  Gen- 
tiles, didst  Thou,  out  of  corporeal  matter,  produce 
the  Sacraments,  and  visible  miracles,  and  forms  of 
words,  according  to  the  firmament  qf  Thy  Book,  by 
which  the  faithful  should  be  blessed  and  multiplied. 
Next,  didst  Thou  form  the  living  soul  of  the  faithful, 
through  affections  well  ordered  by  the  vigor  of  con- 
tinency.  After  that  hast  Thou  renewed  the  mind, 
subjected  to  Thee  alone  and  needing  to  imitate  no 
human  authority,  after  Thy  image  and  likeness^  and 
didst  subject  its  rational  actions  to  the  excellency  of 
the  understanding,  as  the  woman  to  the  man;  and,  to 
all  offices  of  Thy  Ministry,  necessary  for  the  perfecting 
of  the  faithful  in  this  life,  Thou  willedst,  that,  for 
their  temporal  uses,  good  things,  fruitful  to  them- 
selves in  time  to  come,  be  given  by  the  same  faithful. 
All  these  we  see,  and  they  are  very  good,  because 
Thou  seest  them  in  us,  "Who  hast  given  unto  us  Thy 
Spirit,  by  which  we  might  see  them,  and  in  them 
love  Thee. 

XXXV.  50.  O  Lord  God,  give  peace  unto  us  (for 
Thou  hast  given  us  all  things),  the  peace  of  rest,  the 


416  Augustine  sighs  for 

peace  of  the  Sabbath  which  hath  no  evening.  For 
all  this  most  goodly  array  of  things  very  good,  having 
finished  their  courses,  is  to  pass  away,  for  in  them 
there  was  morning  and  evening, 

XXXVI.  51.  But  the  seventh  day  hath  no  even- 
ing, nor  hath  it  setting,  because  Thou  hast  sanctified 
it  to  an  everlasting  continuance ;  that  that  which 
Thou  didst  after  Thy  works  which  were  very  good, 
namely,   resting  the  seventh  day   (although    Thou 
madest  them  in  unbroken  rest),  we,  too,  may  do,  — 
Thy  Book  announcing  beforehand  unto  us,  that  we, 
also,  after  our  works  (very  good,  because  Thou  hast 
given  them  to  us),  shall  rest  in  Thee  also,  in  the  Sab- 
bath of  eternal  life. 

XXXVII.  52.  For  Thou  shalt  rest  in  us,  as  now 
Thou  workest  in  us  ;  and  Thy  rest  shall  be  through 
us,  as  Thy  works  are  through  us.     But  Thou,  Lord, 
ever  workest,  and  art  ever  at  rest.     Nor  dost  Thou 
see  in  time,  nor  art  moved  in  time,  nor  rested  in 
time  ;  and  yet  Thou  makest  things  seen  in  time,  yea 
the  times  themselves,  and  the  rest  which  results  from 
time. 

XXXVm.  53.  We  therefore  see  these  things 
which  Thou  madest,  because  they  are ;  but  they  are 
because  Thou  seest  them.  And  we  see  without,  that 
they  are,  and  within,  that  they  are  good  ;  but  Thou 
sawest  them  when  made,  as  Thou  sawest  them  before 
they  were  made.  And  we  were  at  a  later  time  moved 
to  do  well,  after  our  hearts  had  conceived  of  Thy 
Spirit ;  but  in  the  former  time  we  were  moved  to  do 
evil,  forsaking  Thee.  But  Thou,  the  One,  the  Good 


the  everlasting  rest.  417 

God,  didst  never  cease  doing  good.  And  we  also 
have  some  good  works,  of  Thy  gift,  but  not  eternal ; 
after  them  we  trust  to  rest  in  Thy  great  hallowing. 
But  Thou,  being  the  Good  which  needeth  no  good, 
art  ever  at  rest,  because  Thy  rest  is  Thyself.  And 
what  man  can  teach  man  to  understand  this  ?  or  what 
angel  an  angel  ?  or  what  angel  a  man  ?  Let  it  be 
asked  of  Thee,  sought  of  Thee,  knocked  for  at  Thee : 
so,  so  shall  it  be  received,  so  shall  it  be  found,  so  shall 
it  be  opened.  Amen.  • 


OPINIONS  EXPRESSED. 


THE  SIGNET  RING.  By  Rev.  J.  DeLiefde.  16mo. 
$1.25.  Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

"  We  have  not  found  in  so  small  a  compass  a  mass  of 
Christian  experience  so  pregnant  with  instruction  to  all  who 
are  engaged  in  the  Lord's  work."  —  Phil.  Inquirer. 

"It  is  simple,  natural,  and  interesting;  excellent  for  the 
family  circle  and  the  Sabbath-school  library,  and  entertaining 
and  instructive  to  all."  — Morning  Star. 

"  Many  a  feast  may  the  pious  soul  derive  from  this  delight- 
ful book."  —  Pres.  Banner. 

"  A  volume  of  valuable  Christian  experience,  and  rich  and 
pleasing  religious  instruction.  It  illustrates  and  applies  the 
vital  truth  of  Christianity  with  skill  and  power." —  Tlie 
Congregationalist. 

"  The  writings  of  the  author  of  this  volume,  an  evangelical 
pastor  in  Holland,  have  met  with  great  success  in  Germany. 
There  is  a  peculiar  charm  of  simplicity  and  freshness  in  his 
narrative,  while  his  aim  is  to  promote  the  cause  of  genuine 
piety."  —  N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  A  charming  little  book,  full  of  Divine  lessons."  —  Chris- 
tian Intelligencer. 

"  The  minister,  the  Christian  laborer,  and  the  thoughtful 
child  will  be  charmed  with  the  striking  thoughts  of  the 
book."  —  Vt.  Chronicle. 

"  The  style  is  very  chaste,  and  the  lesson  hidden  beneath 
the  story  in  each  case  is  highly  instructive.  We  have  read 
the  book  with  admiration." —  Zion's  Advocate. 

"  No  reader  can  fail  to  be  charmed  with  the  skill  and  ear- 
nestness with  which  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel  are  illus- 
trated and  enforced."  —  New  Haven  Palladium. 

"We  heartily  commend  it  to  all,  especially  to  theological 
students  and  ministers."  — Presbyterian. 

"  Fresh  in  thought,  elegant  in  style,  and  containing  a  rich 
rein  of  experimental  piety." — N.  W.  Christie  Advocate. 


OPINIONS  EXPRESSED. 

BIBLE  PICTUKES;  OB,  LIFE  SKETCHES  OF  LIFE- 
TBUTHS.  By  Geo.  B.  Ide,  D.D.  12mo.  $2.00.  Large 
edition,  tinted  paper,  illusrcated,  $4.00.  Boston:  D.  LOXH- 
BOP  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

"  There  is  useful  instruction  and  eloquent  writing-matter, 
both  for  the  imagination  and  the  heart."  —  Scottish  Ameri- 
can. 

"  These  pictures  are  immeasurably  more  worthy  of  elegant 
setting  and  artistic  illustration  than  some  pretentious  and 
showy  volumes  of  similar  title  that  are  in  circulation."  — 
Springfield  Republican. 

"  The  topics  are  all  admirably  treated,  with  that  richness 
of  thought,  and  that  clearness  and  strength  of  style  in  which 
Dr.  IJe  so  eminently  excels."  —  Christian  Times. 

"Didactic  and  abstract  truths  he  presents  in  the  most 
pleasing  form,  entertaining  while  he  instructs  his  readers." 
—  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

A  Beautiful  Gift  Book  for  all  Seasons. 

THE  EXCELLENT  WOMAN;  with  an  introduction  by 
Wm.  B.  Sprague,  D.  .D.  $1.50.  New  edition.  Boston: 
D.  LOTHKOP  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

"  It  should  be  as  extensively  read  as  its  merit  deserves, 
and  it  will  do  much  to  correct  morbid  sensibility  as  to 
'Woman's  Eights.'  " — Congregationalist. 

"  It  inculcates  some  of  the  soundest  maxims  of 'wisdom, 
bearing  upon  the  subject  of  female  education."  — American 
Union. 

"  An  admirable  gift  book,  which  any  lady  should  be  proud 
to  accept."  —  Portland  Transcript. 

"  We  have  seen  few  books  so  calculated  to  demonstrate 
the  proper  sphere  and  duties  of  woman  as  this."  —  Christian 
Intelligencer. 

"It  is  a  fine  conception,  beautifully  carried  out.  Th« 
engravings  are  highly  significant,  and  add  much  to  the  inter 
est  of  the  work."  — Albany  Argus. 


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